SHELLEY     MEMORIALS 


FROM  AUTHENTIC  SOURCES. 


EDITED  BY  LADY  SHELLEY 


TO   WHICH   IS   ADDED 


AN   ESSAY   ON   CHRISTIANITY, 

BY  PERCY  BYSSHE  SHELLEY: 


NOW   FIRST   PRINTED. 


BOSTON: 
TICKNOR   AND    FIELDS 

M.DCCCLIX. 

Republished,  1970 

Scholarly  Press,  22929  Industrial  Drive  East 

St.  Clair  Shores,  Michigan  48080 


G/£  Y*'** 


J 


/\j 


XI 9 
16327 


wwmmt,  ■ 


Library  of  Congress  Catalog  Card  Number:   70-115269 
Standard  Book  Number  403-00299-0 


This  edition  is  printed  on  a  high-quality, 

acid-free  paper  that  meets  specification 

requirements  for  fine  book  paper  referred 

to  as  "300-year"  paper 


PR5H-3I 

I  970 
AfA/N 


PREFACE    BY    THE    EDITOR. 


Had  it  been  left  entirely  to  the  uninfluenced  wishes 
of  Sir  Percy  Shelley  and  myself,  we  should  have  pre- 
ferred that  the  publication  of  the  materials  for  a  life  of 
Shelley  which  we  possess  should  have  been  postponed 
to  a  later  period  of  our  lives  ;  but  as  we  had  recently 
noticed,  both  in  French  and  English  magazines,  many 
papers  on  Shelley,  all  taking  for  their  text  Captain 
Medwin's  Life  of  the  Poet,  (a  book  full  of  errors,)  and 
as  other  biographies  had  been  issued,  written  by  those 
who  had  no  means  of  ascertaining  the  truth,  we  were 
anxious  that  the  numerous  misstatements  which  had 
gone  forth  should  be  corrected. 

For  this  purpose,  we  placed  the  documents  in  our 
possession  at  the  disposal  of  a  gentleman  whose  liter- 
ary habits  and  early  knowledge  of  the  poet  seemed  to 
point  him  out  as  the  most  fitting  person  for  bringing 
them  to  the  notice  of  the  public.  It  was  clearly  un- 
derstood, however,  that  our  wishes  and  feelings  should 
be  consulted  in  all  the  details. 


IV  PREFACE. 

We  saw  the  book  for  the  first  time  when  it  was  given 
to  the  world.  It  was  impossible  to  imagine  beforehand 
that  from  such  materials  a  book  could  have  been  pro- 
duced which  has  astonished  and  shocked  those  who  have 
the  greatest  right  to  form  an  opinion  on  the  character 
of  Shelley ;  and  it  was  with  the  most  painful  feelings  of 
dismay  that  we  perused  what  we  could  only  look  upon 
as  a  fantastic  caricature,  going  forth  to  the  public  with 
my  apparent  sanction,  for  it  was  dedicated  to  myself. 

Our  feelings  of  duty  to  the  memory  of  Shelley  left 
us  no  other  alternative  than  to  withdraw  the  materials 
which  we  had  originally  intrusted  to  his  early  friend, 
and  which  we  could  not  but  consider  had  been  strangely 
misused  ;  and  to  take  upon  ourselves  the  task  of  laying 
them  before  the  public,  connected  only  by  as  slight  a 
thread  of  narrative  as  might  make  them  intelligible  to 
the  reader. 

I  have  condensed  as  much  as  possible  the  details  of 
the  early  period  of  Shelley's  life,  for  I  am  aware  that 
a  great  many  of  them  have  already  appeared  in  print. 
The  repetition  of  some,  however,  was  considered  advis- 
able, since  it  is  very  probable  that  this  volume  will 
be  read  by  many  who  have  not  seen,  nor  are  likely  to 
see,  any  other  work  giving  an  account  of  the  writings 
and  actions  of  Sjielley. 

I  little  expected  that  this  task  would  devolve  on  me ; 
and  I  am  fully  sensible  how  unequal  I  am  to  its  proper 
fulfilment.     To  give    a    truthful    statement   of  long-dis- 


PREFACE.  V 

torted  facts,  and  to  clear  away  the  mist  in  which  the 
misrepresentations  of  foes  and  professed  friends  have 
obscured  the  memory  of  Shelley,  have  been  my  only 
object.  My  labors  have  been  greatly  assisted  by  the 
help  of  an  intimate  and  valued  friend  of  Mr.  Shelley, 
and  by  Mr.  Edmund  Oilier,  whose  father  (the  publisher 
of  Shelley's  works)  at  once  freely  offered  me  the  use 
of  some  most  interesting  letters  written  to  himself. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  the  authenticity  of  all  the 
documents  contained  in  this  volume  is  beyond  question  ; 
but  the  public  would  do  well  to  receive  with  the  utmost 
caution  all  letters  purporting  to  be  by  Shelley,  which 
have  not  some  indisputable  warrant.* 

The  art  of  forging  letters  purporting  to  be  relics  of 
men  of  literary  celebrity,  and  therefore  apparently  pos- 
sessing a  commercial  value,  has  been  brought  to  a,  rare 
perfection  by  those  who  have  made  Mr.  Shelley's  hand- 
writing the  object  of  their  imitation.'  Within  'the  last 
fourteen  years,  on  no  less  than  three  occasions,  have 
forged  letters  been  presented  to  our  family  for  purchase. 
In  December,  1851,  Sir  Percy  Shelley  and  the  late 
Mr.  Moxon  bought  several  letters,  all  of  which  proved 

*  Those  printed  in  the  work  to  which  allusion  has  already  been 
made  have  never,  for  the  most  part,  been  seen  by  any  other  per- 
son than  the  author  of  that  work ;  and  the  erasures  which  he  has 
already  made  in  them,  together  with  the  arrangement  of  their  par- 
agraphs, render  them  of  doubtful  value,  however  authentic  may  be 
the  originals  which  that  gentleman  asserts  he  possesses. 


vi  ntEFACE. 

to  be  forgeries,  though,  on  the  most  careful  inspection, 
we  could  scarcely  detect  any  difference  between  these 
and  the  originals  ;  for  some  were  exact  copies  of  docu- 
ments in  our  possession.  The  watermark  on  the  paper 
was  generally,  though  not  always,  the  mark  appropriate 
to  the  date  ;  and  the  amount  of  ingenuity  exercised  was 
most  extraordinary.  Mr.  Moxon  published  what  he  had 
bought  in  a  small  volume,  but  recalled  the  work  shortly 
afterwards,  on  discovering  that  some  of  the  letters  had 
been  manufactured  from  articles  in  magazines  and  re- 
views, written  long  after  Shelley's  death. 

The  letter  to  Lord  Ellenborough  has  never  before 
been  published ;  but  I  regard  it  as  too  extraordinary 
a  production  for  a  youth  of  eighteen  to  feel  myself 
justified  in  suppressing  it. 

The  fragmentary  Essay  on  Christianity,  published  at 
the  end  of  this  volume,  was  found  amongst  Shelley's 
papers  in  the  imperfect  state  in  which  it  is  now  pro- 
duced. 

Boscombe,  March  31,  1859 


CONTENTS. 


CHAP.  PAGE 

I.  Early  Life  of  Shelley 9 

II.  First  Love  :  Oxford  :  Expulsion    ....  20 

III.  First  Marriage 28 

IV.  Acquaintance  with  Godwin 32 

V.  Literary  Correspondence:  1812     ....  47 

VI.  Poetical  Labors  and  Domestic  Sorrows  .     60 
VII.  England  and  Switzerland  :  Judgment   of 
the  Lord  Chancellor  :  the  "  Revolt  of 

Islam"       77 

VIII.  Italy:  1818 100 

IX.  "Prometheus  Unbound:"  the  "  Cenci  "      .  121 
X.  The  Poet's  Life  at  Pisa  and  Leghorn  .    .  144 

XL  Shelley  and  Byron  at  Pisa 161 

XII.  TnE  Bay  of  Spezzia 193 

XIII.  Shelley's  Death  and  Obsequies    ....  210 

XIV.  Mary  Shelley 221 

Extracts    from    Mrs.    Shelley's    Private 

Journal 248 

Essay  on  Christianity 271 


SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 


CHAPTER  I. 


EARLY   LIFE. 


At  the  close  of  the  last  century,  the  family  of  the 
Shelleys  had  long  held  a  high  position  among  the  large 
landholders  of  Sussex.  Fortunate  marriages  in  the 
two  generations  preceding  the  birth  of  the  poet  con- 
siderably increased  the  wealth  and  influence  of  the 
house,  the  head  of  which  in  1806  was  a  stanch  Whig, 
and  on  that  ground  obtained  a  baronetcy  from  the 
short-lived  Whig  Administration  of  that  year.  Four- 
teen years  previously,  —  viz.,  on  the  4th  of  August, 
1792,  —  his  illustrious  grandson  drew  the  first  breath 
of  life.  Percy  Bysshe  Shelley  was  born  on  that 
day  at  Field  Place,  near  Horsham,  Sussex.  He  was 
the  eldest  son  of  Timothy  Shelley,  Esq.,  subsequently 
the  second  baronet ;  and  was  christened  Bysshe  after 
his  grandfather.  At  six  years  of  age,  the  boy  was 
sent  to  a  day-school  near  the  residence  of  his  parents, 


10  SHELLEY   MEMORIALS. 

and  at  ten  left  home  for  the  seminary  of  Dr.  Green- 
law, at  Brentford,  Middlesex.  Here  he  acquired  the 
dead  languages,  seemingly  by  intuition ;  for,  during 
school  hours,  he  would  gaze  abstractedly  at  the  pass- 
ing clouds,  or  would  scrawl  in  his  school-books  (a 
habit  which  he  never  lost)  rude  drawings  of  pines  and 
cedars,  in  memory  of  those  standing  on  the  lawn  of 
his  native  home. 

He  was  regarded  by  his  school-fellows  as  a  strange, 
unsociable  person.  Never  joining  in  their  sports,  he 
passed  much  of  his  leisure  time  in  solitude,  and  on 
holidays  would  walk  backwards  and  forwards  along 
the  southern  wall  of  the  playground,  indulging  in  wild 
fancies  and  vague  meditations.  Still,  though  he  seem- 
ingly neglected  his  tasks,  he  soon  surpassed  all  his 
competitors  ;  for  his  memory  was  so  tenacious  that  he 
never  forgot  what  he  had  once  learned.  He  was  very 
fond  of  reading,  and  eagerly  perused  all  the  books 
which  were  brought  to  school  after  the  holidays.  Sto- 
ries of  haunted  castles,  bandits,  murderers,  and  various 
grim  creations  of  fancy,  were  his  favorites  ;  and  in 
after  years  he  began  his  literary  life  by  writing  simi- 
lar wild  romances.  When  at  Field  Place  during  the 
vacations,  his  propensity  to  frolic,  —  always,  however, 
unaccompanied  by  the  infliction  of  pain  on  any  living 
creature,  —  his  partiality  for  moonlight  walks,  and  his 
wonderfully  exuberant  imagination,  came  under  the 
notice  of  his  sister,  who,  in  some  spirited  and  graceful 
letters,  has  recorded  a  few  of  the  incidents  of  this 
period. 


EARLY    LIFE.  11 

"  Bysshe,"  writes  Miss  Shelley,  "  would  frequently 
come  to  the  nursery,  and  was  full  of  a  peculiar  kind 
of  pranks.  One  piece  of  mischief,  for  which  he  was 
rebuked,  was  running  a  stick  through  the  ceiling  of 
a  low  passage,  to  find  some  new  chamber  which  could 
be  made  effective  for  some  flights  of  his  vivid  imagi- 
nation. The  tales  to  which  we  have  sat  and  listened, 
evening  after  evening,  seated  on  his  knee,  when  we 
came  to  the  dining-room  for  dessert,  were  anticipated 
with  that  pleasing  dread  which  so  excites  the  minds 
of  children,  and  fastens  so  strongly  and  indelibly  on 
the  memory. 

"  There  was  a  spacious  garret  under  the  roof  of 
Field  Place,  and  a  room  which  had  been  closed  for 
years,  excepting  an  entrance  made  by  the  removal 
of  a  board  in  the  garret  floor.  This  unknown  land 
was  made  the  fancied  habitation  of  an  alchemist,  old 
and  gray,  with  a  long  beard.  Books  and  a  lamp,  with 
all  the  attributes  of  a  picturesque  fancy,  were  poured 
into  our  listening  ears.  We  were  to  go  and  see  him 
'  some  day/  but  we  were  content  to  wait ;  and  a  cave 
was  to  be  dug  in  the  orchard  for  the  accommodation 
of  this  Cornelius  Agrippa. 

"  Bysshe  was  certainly  fond  of  eccentric  amusements ; 
but  they  delighted  us,  as  children,  quite  as  much  as  if 
our  minds  had  been  naturally  attuned  to  the  same  tastes  ; 
for  we  dressed  ourselves  in  strange  costumes  to  per- 
sonate spirits  or  fiends,  and  Bysshe  would  take  a 
fire-stove,  and  fill  it  with  some  inflammable  liquid,  and 
carry  it  flaming  into  the  kitchen  and  to  the  back-door  ; 


12  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

but  discovery  of  this  dangerous  amusement  soon  put  a 
stop  to  many  repetitions. 

"  My  brother  was  full  of  pleasant  attention  to  children, 
though  his  mind  was  so  far  above  theirs.  He  had  a 
wish  to  educate  some  child,  and  often  talked  seriously 
of  purchasing  a  little  girl  for  that  purpose.  A  tumbler, 
who  came  to  the  back-door  to  display  her  wonderful 
feats,  attracted  him,  and  he  thought  she  would  be  a 
good  subject  for  the  purpose.  But  all  these  wild  fan- 
cies came  to  nought.  He  would  take  his  pony,  and 
ride  about  the  beautiful  lanes  and  fields  surrounding 
the  house,  and  would  talk  of  his  intention ;  but  he  did 
not  consider  that  board  and  lodging  would  be  indispen- 
sable; and  this  difficulty,  probably,  was  quite  sufficient 
to  prevent  the  talk  from  becoming  reality." 

In  stature,  Shelley  was  slightly  yet  elegantly  formed ; 
he  had  deep  blue  eyes,  of  a  wild,  strange  beauty,  and 
a  high  white  forehead,  overshadowed  with  a  quantity  of 
dark  brown  curling  hair.  His  complexion  was  very 
fair ;  and,  though  his  features  were  not  positively  hand- 
some, the  expression  of  his  countenance  was  one  of 
exceeding  sweetness  and  sincerity.  His  look  of  youth- 
fulness  he  retained  to  the  end  of  his  life,  though  his 
hair  was  beginning  to  get  gray  —  the  effect  of  intense 
study,  and  of  the  painful  agitations  of  mind  through 
which  he  had  passed. 

At  the  age  of  thirteen,  Shelley  went  to  Eton,  and 
there  began  his  earnest  and  life-long  struggle  with  the 
world.  When  he  entered  the  college,  the  practice  of 
fagging   flourished   in  all   its  vigor  under  the   superin- 


EARLY    LIFE.  13 

tendence  of  Dr.  Kcate,  the  head-master.  To  the  high- 
toned  feelings  of  Shelley,  this  daily  experience  of  un- 
happiness  and  tyranny  was  most  revolting.  Won  by 
affection,  but  unconquered  by  blows,  he  was  not  the 
kind  of  youth  likely  to  be  happy  at  a  public  school. 
He  refused  to  fag,  and  was  treated  by  master  and  boys 
with  the  severity  of  passion  and  prejudice.  But  to  all 
the  devices  of  despotism  he  opposed  a  brave  and  daunt- 
less spirit.  At  the  same  time,  the  purity,  unselfish- 
ness, and  generosity  of  his  nature  gained  him  friends 
among  his  school-fellows  wherever  there  were  any  cor- 
responding qualities  to  appreciate  these  signs  of  the 
nobility  of  his  disposition.  The  power  of  fascination 
was,  indeed,  possessed  by  Shelley  all  through  his  exist- 
ence. 

Mr.  Packe,  one  of  his  school-fellows  at  Eton,  relates 
in  a  letter  that  the  embryo  poet's  tutor  "  was  one  of  the 
dullest  men  in  the  establishment;"  that  he  did  not 
understand  his  pupil  in  the  least;  that  the  boys  made 
a  point  of  constantly  u  goading  Shelley  into  a  rage," 
though  they  would  run  away,  appalled,  directly  the 
storm  they  had  provoked  burst  forth ;  that  their  victim 
would  never  deign  to  pursue  them,  but  would  gener- 
ously assist  their  dulness  when  they  came  to  him  with 
petitions  to  help  them  in  their  tasks ;  and  that  he  would 
not  at  any  time  submit  to  the  trammels  of  the  "  gradus." 
His  facility  in  making  Latin  verses  is  described  by  Mr. 
Packe  as  wonderful;  but,  not  being  in  accordance  with 
rule,  these  compositions  were  generally  torn  up.  How- 
ever, his  greatest   passion  at  Eton   was  for   chemistry. 


14  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

Often  did  he  astonish  the  boys  by  his  experiments,  and 
once  he  accidentally  set  fire  to  some  trees  on  the  com- 
mon. At  that  time  he  lodged  at  the  house  of  his  tutor, 
who,  on  a  certain  day,  found  Shelley  in  his  room  amus- 
ing himself  by  the  production  of  a  blue  flame.  Chemi- 
cal experiments  were  prohibited  in  the  boys'  chambers ; 
and  the  tutor  (Mr.  Bethel)  somewhat  angrily  asked 
what  the  lad  was  doing.  Shelley  jocularly  replied  that 
he  was  raising  the  devil.  Mr.  Bethel  seized  hold  of  a 
mysterious  implement  on  the  table,  and  in  an  instant 
was  thrown  against  the  wall,  having  grasped  a  highly- 
charged  electrical  machine.  Of  course,  the  young  ex- 
perimentalist paid  dearly  for  this  unfortunate  occurrence. 

"Among  my  latest  recollections  of  Shelley's  life  at 
Eton,"  concludes  Mr.  Packe,  "is  the  publication  of 
Zastrozzi*  for  which  I  think  he  received  40/.  With 
part  of  the  proceeds  he  gave  a  most  magnificent  banquet 
to  eight  of  his  friends,  among  whom  I  was  included. 
I  cannot  now  call  to  mind  the  names  of  the  other 
guests,  excepting  those  of  two  or  three  who  are  not 
now  living.  Shelley  was  too  peculiar  in  his  genius  and 
his  habits  to  be  '  the  hare  with  many  friends ; '  but  the 
few  who  knew  him  loved  him,  and,  if  I  may  judge  from 
myself,  remember  with  affectionate  regret  that  his  school- 
days were  more  adventurous  than  happy." 

His  opposition  to  fagging  was  not  without  some  good 
effect  for  the  time.  He  formed  a  conspiracy  against 
the  system,  and  succeeded  in  checking  it  —  at  any  rate, 

*  A  novel  so  called. 


EARLY    LIFE.  15 

as  far  as  regarded  himself.  But  the  fiery  conflicts 
through  which  he  had  to  pass  impressed  him  with  a 
sense  of  wretchedness  which  he  afterwards  described 
with  passionate  sweetness  in  the  dedication  of  the  Revolt 
of  Islam :  — 

"  Thoughts  of  great  deeds  were  mine,  dear  friend,  when  first 

The  clouds  which  wrap  this  world  from  youth  did  pass. 

I  do  remember  well  the  hour  which  burst 

My  spirit's  sleep:    a  fresh  May  dawn  it  was, 

When  I  walk'd  forth  upon  the  glittering  grass, 

And  wept,  I  knew  not  why :   until  there  rose 

From  the  near  school-room  voices  that,  alas! 

Were  but  one  echo  from  a  world  of  woes  — 
The  harsh  and  grating  strife  of  tyrants  and  of  foes. 

"And  then  I  clasp'd  my  hands,  and  look'd  around; 

But  none  was  near  to  mock  my  streaming  eyes, 

Which  pour'd  their  warm  drops  on  the  sunny  ground: 

So,  without  shame,  I  spake:  —  'I  will  be  wise, 

And  just,  and  free,  and  mild,  if  in  me  lies 

Such  power  ;  for  I  grow  weary  to  behold 

The  selfish  and  the  strong  still  tyrannize 

Without  reproach  or  check.'     I  then  controll'd 
My  tears  ;  my  heart  grew  calm  ;  and  I  was  meek  and  bold. 

"  And  from  that  hour  did  T,  with  earnest  thought, 

Heap  knowledge  from  forbidden  mines  of  lore: 

Yet  nothing  that  my  tyrants  knew  or  taught 

I  cared  to  learn ;  but  from  that  secret  store 

Wrought  linked  armor  for  my  soul,  before 

It  might  walk  forth,  to  war  among  mankind. 

Thus,  power  and  hope  were  strengthen' d  more  and  more 

Within  me,  till  there  came  upon  my  mind 
A  sense  of  loneliness,  a  thirst  with  which  I  pined." 

The  agony  which  Shelley  thus  endured,  for  the  very 


16  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

reason  that  he  was  more  outspoken  and  truth-loving  than 
other  boys,  is  only  one  out  of  many  painful  examples  of 
the  frequent  unfitness  of  schoolmasters  and  tutors  for 
the  duty  which  they  seek  to  execute.  However,  we 
have  improved  since  the  early  part  of  the  present  cen- 
tury ;  for  those  were  the  days  when  coercion  was  looked 
on  as  the  only  principle  of  school  government,  and 
when  kindness  was  regarded  as  sentimentalism.  With 
one  exception,  Shelley  found  his  tutors  men  of  rough, 
passionate,  and  hard  natures,  who  claimed  obedience 
merely  because  they  possessed  authority,  without  show- 
ing that  they  had  any  right  to  exercise  their  power  by 
reason  of  superior  discretion  and  serener  wisdom;  men 
who  answered  inquiries  by  cuffs,  who  sought  to  tame 
independence  by  violence,  who  exasperated  the  eccen- 
tricities of  a  wild  but  generous  nature  by  the  opposi- 
tion of  their  own  coarser  minds,  and  who  made  religion 
distasteful  by  confounding  it  with  dogmatism,  and  learn- 
ing repulsive  by  allying  it  with  pedantic  formality. 
Had  these  instructors  possessed  half  as  much  knowl- 
edge of  human  nature  as  of  Greek  roots  and  Latin 
"  quantities,"  they  might  have  developed  and  guided 
the  mind  of  Shelley ;  but  they  thought  not  of  this, 
and  therefore  only  irritated  a  sensitive  and  ardent 
disposition. 

The  one  exception  to  this  narrow  and  unfortunate 
rule  was  Dr.  Lind,  an  erudite  scholar  and  amiable  old 
man,  much  devoted  to  chemistry,  at  whose  house  Shel- 
ley passed  the  happiest  of  his  Eton  hours.  He  was  a 
physician,  and  also  one  of   the  tutors.      Mrs.   Shelley 


EARLY    LIFE.  17 

relates  that  the  Doctor  often  stood  by  to  befriend  and 
support  the  persecuted  boy,  and  that  her  husband  never, 
in  after  life,  mentioned  his  name  without  love  and  ven- 
eration. The  poet  has  introduced  him  into  the  Revolt 
of  Islam,  as  the  old  hermit  who  liberates  Laon  from 
prison,  and  attends  on  him  in  sickness ;  and  into  Prince 
Athanase,  as  the  wise  and  benignant  Zonoras.  In  the 
former  poem,  (Canto  IV.),  he  speaks  of  the  hermit's 
heart  having  grown  old  without  being  corrupted,  and 
adds : — 

"  That  hoary  man  had  spent  his  livelong  age 
In  converse  with  the  dead,  who  leave  the  stamp 
Of  ever-burning  thoughts  on  many  a  page 
When  they  are  gone  into  the  senseless  damp 
Of  graves.     His  spirit  thus  became  a  lamp 
Of  splendor,  like  to  those  on  which  it  fed. 
Through  peopled  haunts,  the  city  and  the  camp, 
Deep  thirst  for  knowledge  had  his  footsteps  led, 

And  all  the  ways  of  men  among  mankind  he  read. 

"  But  custom  maketh  blind  and  obdurate 
The  loftiest  hearts.     He  had  beheld  the  woe 
In  which  mankind  was  bound,  but  deem'd  that  fate, 
Which  made  them  abject,  would  preserve  them  so." 

For  his  strange  pupil,  whose  scientific  studies  he 
directed,  and  whose  pleasures  he  was  eager  to  promote, 
Dr.  Lind  entertained  a  warm  affection.  When  Shelley 
was  seized  with  a  dangerous  fever,  he  hurried  at  a 
moment's  notice  to  Field  Place,  and  by  his  skill,  and 
the  soothing  influence  of  his  presence,  saved  his  young 
friend  from  pressing  danger.     The  incident  in  the  Revolt 


18  SHELLEY  MEMORIALS. 

of  Islam  is,  therefore,  a  fact.  The  Doctor's  kindness 
made  on  Shelley  a  deep  and  lasting  impression ;  the 
more  so  as,  from  the  indiscreet  gossip  of  a  servant,  who 
had  overheard  some  conversation  between  his  father  and 
the  village  doctor,  Bysshe  had  come  to  the  conviction 
that  it  was  intended  to  remove  him  from  the  house  to 
some  distant  asylum. 

Shelley  also  felt  an  affectionate  regard  for  his  rela- 
tions, particularly  for  his  mother  and  sisters ;  and  I  have 
heard  his  eldest  surviving  sister  relate  that,  during  a 
supposed  dangerous  attack  of  gout  under  which  his 
father  was  suffering,  Bysshe  would  creep  noiselessly  to 
his  room  door,  to  watch  and  listen  with  tender  anxiety. 

The  chemical  experiments  which  the  yourfg  student 
eagerly  pursued  at  Eton  were  not  discontinued  when  he 
was  at  home.  His  little  sisters'  frocks  were  often  found 
stained  with  caustic ;  and  Miss  Shelley  states  in  one  of 
her  letters :  —  "I  confess  my  pleasure  was  entirely  nega- 
tived by  terror  at  the  effects.  Whenever  he  came  to  me 
with  his  piece  of  brown  paper  under  his  arm,  and  a  bit 
of  wire  and  a  bottle  (if  I  remember  right),  my  heart 
would  beat  with  fear  at  his  approach ;  but  shame  kept 
me  silent,  and,  with  as  many  others  as  we  could  collect, 
we  were  placed  hand  in  hand  round  the  nursery  table  to 
be  electrified ;  but  when  a  suggestion  was  made  that 
chilblains  were  to  be  cured  by  this  means,  my  terror 
overwhelmed  all  other  feelings,  and  the  expression  of  it 
released  me  from  all  future  annoyance.  His  own  hands 
and  clothes  were  constantly  stained  and  corroded  with 
acids,  and  it  only  seemed  too  probable  that  some  day  the 


EARLY    LIFE.  10 

house  would  be  burnt  down,  or  some  serious  mischief 
happen  to  himself  or  others  from  the  explosion  of  com- 
bustibles. He  used  afterwards  to  speak  himself  with 
horror  of  having  once  swallowed  by  accident  some 
arsenic  at  Eton,  and  feared  he  should  never  entirely  re- 
cover from  the  shock  it  had  inflicted  on  his  constitution." 
The  boy  Shelley  now  passes  from  our  sight,  and  in 
the  next  chapter  we  shall  have  to  speak  of  the  poet  in 
the  first  dawn  of  manhood. 


20  SHELLEY   MEMORIALS. 


CHAPTER  II. 


In  1809,  Shelley  left  Eton  and  returned  home ;  and, 
being  now  of  an  age  when  it  is  not  uncommon  for  people 
to  have  some  touch  of  romance  in  them  —  a  tendency 
which  in  him  was  developed  to  an  unusual  degree  —  his 
delight  was  to  steal  from  the  house,  and  to  wander  about 
by  moonlight.  His  sister  remarks  that  "  the  prosaic 
minds  of  ordinary  mortals  could  not  understand  the 
pleasure  to  be  derived  from  contemplating  the  stars, 
when  he,  probably,  was  repeating  to  himself  lines  which 
were  soon  to  astonish  those  who  looked  upon  him  as  a 
boy.  The  old  servant  of  the  family  would  follow  him, 
and  say  that  '  Master  Bysshe  only  took  a  walk,  and  came 
back  again.' "  But  (as  in  Mrs.  Barbauld's  excellent 
story  of  Eyes  and  no  Eyes)  the  walk  of  one  individual 
along  a  given  road  may  be  as  different  from  that  of 
another  along  the  same  path  as  a  plenum  is  different 
from  a  vacuum.  While  the  old  servant,  probably,  saw 
little  but  the  dust,  and  the  monotonous  hedges,  and  the 
figure  of  his  young  master  walking  on  before,  the  unde- 
veloped poet  saw  the  infinite  beauty  of  Nature  spreading 
out  in  all  its  vastness  and  its  minuteness,  and  was  busied 


shelley's  first  love.  21 

with  speculations  which  gave  an  additional  and  still  more 
solemn  splendor  to  the  mysterious  loveliness  of  the 
world. 

It  was  in  the  summer  of  this  year  that  Bysshe  fell  des- 
perately in  love  with  his  cousin,  Harriet  Grove,  who, 
with  her  brother,  was  on  a  visit  to  Field  Place.  Eliza- 
beth Shelley,  who  was  then  at  home,  always  made  one 
of  the  party  in  their  moonlight  strolls  through  the  groves 
of  Strood  and  the  beautiful  scenery  of  St.  Leonard's; 
at  which  time  the  young  lover  had  just  reason  to  sup- 
pose that  his  attachment  had  met  with  sympathy.  The 
whole  party,  with  Bysshe's  mother,  went  from  Sussex 
to  Mr.  Grove's  house  in  London  ;  and  the  presence  of 
the  parents,  inasmuch  as  it  appeared  to  sanction  the 
daily  intercourse  between  the  young  couple,  carried  to 
Bysshe's  mind  a  well-grounded  expectation  that  his  ar- 
dent affections  and  wandering  sympathies  had  found  at 
last  a  resting-place  and  a  home.  It  was  not,  however, 
so  to  be.  In  the  letters  which  passed  between  them 
after  Miss  Harriet  Grove  had  returned  to  Wiltshire, 
the  speculative  doubts  which  were  expressed  on  serious 
subjects  alarmed  the  parents  of  the  young  lady  for  the 
future  welfare  of  their  daughter ;  and,  on  Shelley  being 
expelled  from  Oxford,  all  intimacy  was  broken  off,  and 
Miss  Grove  soon  made  another  choice.  The  blow  fell 
on  Bysshe  with  cruel  force. 

Shelley  went  to  Oxford  in  1810,  in  which  year  he 
became  an  undergraduate  of  University  College.  His 
secluded  habits,  and  the  ardor  with  which  he  threw  all 
the  energies  of  his  mind  into  the  acquisition  of  knowl- 


22  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

edge,  were  gratified  by  the  customs  and  opportunities 
which  he  found  when  entering  on  this  new  mode  of  life. 
The  forms  of  study  at  Oxford,  then  as  now,  were  well 
adapted  to  exercise  a  beneficial  influence  on  a  mind 
somewhat  prone,  at  the  time,  to  mysticism,  and  to  the 
neglect  of  practical  results  ;  and  it  must  therefore  be 
forever  regretted  that  Shelley's  academical  career  termi- 
nated so  early. 

Notwithstanding  the  extremely  spiritual  and  romantic 
character  of  his  genius,  he  applied  himself  to  logic  with 
ardor  and  success,  and  of  course  brought  it  to  bear  on 
all  subjects,  including  theology.  With  his  habitual  dis- 
regard of  consequences,  he  hastily  wrote  a  pamphlet,  in 
which  the  defective  logic  of  the  usual  arguments  in  favor 
of  the  existence  of  a  God  was  set  forth  ;  this  he  circu- 
lated among  the  authorities  and  members  of  his  college. 
In  point  of  fact,  the  pamphlet  did  not  contain  any  posi- 
tive assertion ;  it  was  merely  a  challenge  to  discussion, 
beginning  with  certain  axioms,  and  finishing  with  a 
Q.  E.  D.  The  publication  (consisting  of  only  two  pages) 
seemed  rather  to  imply,  on  the  part  of  the  writer,  a  de- 
sire to  obtain  better  reasoning  on  the  side  of  the  com- 
monly received  opinion,  than  any  wish  to  overthrow  with 
sudden  violence  the  grounds  of  men's  belief.  In  any 
case,  however,  had  the  heads  of  the  college  been  men  of 
candid  and  broad  intellects,  they  would  have  recognized 
in  the  author  of  the  obnoxious  pamphlet  an  earnest  love 
of  truth,  a  noble  passion  for  arriving  at  the  nature  of 
things,  however  painful  the  road.  They  might  at  least 
have  sought,  by  argument  and  remonstrance,  to  set  him 


shelley's  first  love.  23 

in  what  they  conceived  to  be  the  right  path  ;  but  either 
they  had  not  the  courage  and  the  regard  for  truth  neces- 
sary for  such  a  course,  or  they  were  themselves  the 
victims  of  a  narrow  education.  At  any  rate,  for  this 
exercise  of  scholastic  ingenuity,  Shelley  was  expelled. 
A  college  friend  of  the  poet  (Mr.  Hogg)  shared  the 
same  fate  for  supporting  his  cause. 

Mr.  Hogg  was  the  son  of  a  gentleman  in  the  north  of 
England,  whose  acquaintance  Shelley  had  made  on  his 
first  arrival  at  Oxford,  by  sitting  accidentally  next  to 
him  at  the  hall  dinner.  To  reason  on  any  subject,  at 
any  time,  with  any  one,  was  to  Shelley  an  irresistible 
temptation.  Discussion,  and  the  clash  of  argument  with 
another,  by  which  he  strove  to  render  his  own  perception 
of  any  subject  more  clear  and  defined,  delighted  him. 
In  Mr.  Hogg  he  found  a  companion  acute  enough  to  be 
a  worthy  antagonist,  and  one  who  was  always  ready  to 
place  himself  at  his  disposal  for  the  combat  of  words. 
The  two  friends  were  inseparable.  The  bonds  of  sym- 
pathy between  them  were  their  literary  tastes  and  their 
intellectual  activity ;  and  accordingly  they  walked,  dined, 
and  supped  together,  always  discussing. 

On  Shelley  receiving  the  sentence  of  expulsion,  which 
was  ready  drawn  up  in  due  form,  under  the  seal  of  the 
college,  as  if  the  act  had  been  resolved  on  previously,  he 
immediately  withdrew,  and  ran,  in  a  state  of  painful 
agitation,  to  Mr.  Hogg's  rooms.  His  friend,  with  a 
generosity  not  uncommon  in  youth,  though  too  seldom 
retained  in  later  life,  speedily  wrote  a  letter,  remon- 
strating with  the  authorities  for  their  act.      He  was  at 


24  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

oace  sent  for,  and,  after  similar  angry  and  ill-mannered 
questioning  to  that  which  had  been  pursued  in  Shelley's 
case,  was  sentenced  to  the  same  honorable  expulsion  al- 
ready pronounced  against  his  companion. 

This  unhappy  event  took  place  on  Lady-Day,  1811. 
The  friends  quitted  Oxford  next  morning  for  London. 

So  far  as  I  can  gather  from  some  scanty  records,  I 
am  inclined  to  think  that,  at  this  time,  Shelley's  father 
would  have  been  satisfied  with  some  very  slight  conces- 
sions on  his  son's  part — in  fact,  with  his  promising  a 
merely  formal  compliance  with  the  ceremonies  observed 
in  most  households.  But,  had  he  asked  his  native 
stream,  the  Arun,  to  run  up  to  its  source,  he  would 
have  had  as  great  a  chance  of  obtaining  his  desire. 
Exasperated  by  his  son's  refusal  to  conform  to  the 
orthodox  belief,  he  forbade  him  to  appear  at  Field  Place. 
On  the  sensitively  affectionate  feelings  of  the  young  con- 
troversialist and  poet,  this  sentence  of  exclusion  from  his 
boyhood's  home  inflicted  a  bitter  pang ;  yet  he  was  de- 
termined to  bear  it,  for  the  sake  of  what  he  believed  to 
be  right  and  true. 

Conscious  of  high  intellectual  power,  and  of  unsullied 
moral  purity,  he  had  been  persecuted  at  Eton  for  the 
resistance  he  always  offered  to  despotism.  From  Ox- 
ford he  had  been  expelled,  with  great  injustice,  for  a 
pamphlet  which,  if  it  had  been  given  as  a  translation 
of  the  work  of  some  old  Greek,  would  have  been  re- 
garded as  a  model  of  subtle  metaphysical  reasoning. 
He  was  excluded  from  his  father's  house  for  acting  in 
accordance  with  the  dictates  of  his  conscience  ;  and  he 


shelley's  first  love.  25 

found  himself  separated  from  the  society  of  his  equals 
in  rank  by  his  shyness,  his  sensitiveness,  and  his  ascetic 
habits.     Among  his  few  acquaintances  at  this  time  whose 
names  are  known,  there  was  not  one  who  had  the  slight- 
est affinity  with  him ;  and  it  is  not  easy  to  conceive  a 
greater  loneliness  of  the  heart  than  that  which  he  now 
experienced.      Feeling  himself  thus  isolated,  his  natu- 
rally high  spirit  rose  higher  still ;  and  the  young  warrior 
for  truth  went  forth  into  the  world  alone,  but  full  of 
ardor.     And  it  should  be  recollected  that  he  made  this 
sacrifice  out  of  a  purely  abstract  and  intellectual  love 
of  truth ;   for  to  all   sensual   pleasures   Shelley  was   a 
stranger.       His   usual  food   was  bread,  sometimes  sea- 
soned with  a  few   raisins;    his  beverage  was  generally 
water;    if  he    drank   tea  or  coffee,  he  would   take  no 
sugar  with  it,  because  the  produce  of  the  cane  was  then 
obtained  by  slave  labor ;  and   the  unanimous  voice  of 
those  who  knew  him  acquits  him  of  any  participation 
in  the  lax  habits  of  life  too  common  among  young  men. 
Yet,  when  less  than  nineteen,  "fragile  in   health   and 
frame ;  of  the  purest  habits  in  morals ;  full  of  devoted 
generosity  and  universal  kindness ;   glowing  with  ardor 
to   attain   wisdom ;    resolved,   at   every   personal   sacri- 
fice, to  do   right ;   burning  with   a  desire  for   affection 
and  sympathy, — he  was  treated  as  a  reprobate,  cast  forth 
as  a  criminal."  * 

On  the  other  hand,  the  conduct  of  his  father  is  sus- 
ceptible of  some  excuse.  Let  those  who  utterly  condemn 
him  ask  themselves  how  they  would  like  the  presence  in 

*  Mrs.  Shelley. 
2 


26  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

their  houses  of  a  disciple  of  Spinoza  or  of  Calvin,  whose 
enthusiasm  never  wanes,  and  whose  voice  is  seldom  silent ; 
who,  with  the  eloquence  of  conviction,  obtrudes  his  doc- 
trines at  all  times  ;  who  seeks  the  youngest  daughter  in 
the  school-room,  and  the  butler  in  his  pantry,  to  make 
them  converts,  in  the  one  case,  to  the  moral  excellence 
of  materialism,  —  in  the  other,  to  the  aesthetic  comforts 
of  eternal  punishment  by  election ;  and,  if  they  can  con- 
scientiously say  they  would  like  it,  they  may  condemn 
the  elder  Mr.  Shelley ;  but  not  unless.  Still,  it  is  to  be 
regretted  that  a  milder  course  was  not  pursued  towards 
one  who  was  peculiarly  open  to  the  teachings  of  love. 

In  the  present  day,  when  a  brighter  morn  seems 
breaking  on  the  future  ;  when  another  spirit  is  breathing 
over  us  ;  when  vengeance  is  departing  from  our  laws, 
and  love  is  gradually  creeping  in ;  when  freedom  of  in- 
quiry is  becoming  at  once  a  social  and  a  legal  right ; 
when  the  fierce  voices  of  hatred,  which  burst  in  Shelley's 
time  on  the  man  bold  enough  to  question  the  received 
notions  of  Church  and  State  orthodoxy,  have  ceased,  or 
are  faintly  heard ;  when  a  protecting  hand  is  extended 
over  the  toil  of  women  and  children  ;  when  the  claims 
of  the  uninstructed  to  their  share  of  education  are  cord- 
ially admitted ;  when  there  is  a  growing  conviction  that 
all  the  inhabitants  of  the  earth,  whatever  may  be  their 
creed,  their  color,  or  their  clime,  should  enjoy  a  fair  por- 
tion of  the  gifts  of  God,  and  that  the  chief  duty  of  all  is 
to  gird  themselves,  as  in  one  common  brotherhood,  for 
the  struggle  with  the  many  moral  and  physical  evils 
which  are  interwoven  with  our  existence,  —  it  is  not  dim- 


27 

cult  to  understand  the  throbbing  interest  with  which,  in 
the  distant  colony  and  in  the  crowded  street  at  home,  the 
many  turn  to  the  Memorials  of  the  life  of  him  who,  self- 
inspired  and  self-impelled,  from  the  earliest  dawn  of 
manhood  to  his  day  of  death,  shrank  from  no  sacrifice 
in  his  devotion  to  the  cause  of  human  welfare. 


28  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 


CHAPTER  III. 

shelley's  first  marriage. 

Up  to  the  present  period  of  Shelley's  life,  there  has 
been  little  to  chronicle  with  respect  to  his  progress  as  an 
author.  While  at  Oxford,  he  had  published,  in  conjunc- 
tion with  Mr.  Hogg,  a  little  volume  of  burlesque  verses, 
and,  at  a  yet  earlier  date,  when  still  at  home,  he  had 
written  a  great  many  wild  romances  in  prose,  some  of 
which  have  been  printed,  though  they  have  never  taken 
any  place  in  literature,  and  are,  in  fact,  the  crude  produc- 
tions of  an  enthusiastic  boy.  It  was  not,  however,  till  he 
had  been  drawn  into  the  conflict  of  existence  that  he  be- 
gan that  expression  of  his  inner  nature  in  immortal  verse 
which  has  since  astonished  the  world.  But  we  must  yet 
for  a  while  follow  the  course  of  his  private  life. 

Discarded  by  his  father,  Shelley  was  now  left  in  a 
state  of  considerable  pecuniary  embarrassment,  though 
this  did  not  prevent  his  performing  acts  of  munificence 
whenever  he  had  any  money  at  command.  At  one  time 
he  pawned  his  favorite  solar  microscope  in  order  to  re- 
lieve an  urgent  case  of  distress.  He  took  lodgings  in 
Poland  Street,  but  was  often  without  the  means  of  meet- 
ing the  current  expenses  of  the  day.     His  sisters,  who 


SHELLEY'S    FIRST   MARRIAGE.  29 

were  aware  of  this,  saved  their  pocket-money,  and,  from 
time  to  time,  sent  secretly  to  their  brother  the  fruits  of 
their  loving  economy.  This  was  the  origin  of  a  new 
phase  in  Shelley's  existence.  The  Miss  Shelleys  were 
at  that  period  at  school  at  Brompton,  and  among  the 
pupils  was  a  very  handsome  girl  named  Harriet  West- 
brook.  To  her  (as  her  parents  resided  in  London)  was 
consigned  the  task  of  conveying  the  little  sums  of  money 
to  Shelley,  on  whose  susceptible  fancy  she  dawned  as  a 
celestial  being,  illumining  the  dingy  lodgings  he  in- 
habited. During  the  young  lady's  holidays,  Shelley  was 
a  constant  and  welcome  visitor  at  the  house  of  her  father ; 
and,  on  Harriet's  recovery  from  a  slight  indisposition,  the 
young  poet  was  chosen  to  escort  her  back  to  school. 
About  the  same  time,  he  went  for  a  few  days  to  Field 
Place,  and  during  this  visit  came  to  an  amicable  arrange- 
ment with  his  father.  In  consideration  of  a  new  settle- 
ment of  the  property,  Sir  Timothy  agreed  to  make  him 
an  allowance  of  200/.  a  year,  and  his  son  was  to  be  at 
liberty  to  live  where  he  pleased. 

On  leaving  Field  Place,  he  went  to  his  cousin,  Mr.  T. 
Grove,  who  resided  at  a  country  house  near  Rhayader, 
in  Radnorshire ;  whence,  summoned  by  the  pressing  ap- 
peals of  the  Miss  Westbrooks,  he  hastily  returned  to 
London,  and  eloped  with  Harriet. 

From  Shelley's  own  account,  and  from  other  sources 
of  information  which  have  since  transpired,  this  unfort- 
unate marriage  seems  to  have  been  thus  brought  about : 

To  the  wild  eloquence  of  the  enthusiast,  who  claimed 
it  as  his  mission  to  regenerate  the  world,  and  to  give  it 


80  SHELLEY   MEMORIALS. 

freedom  from  the  shackles  which  had  been  too  long  en- 
dured, and  which  barred  its  progress  to  indefinite  perfec- 
tibility, Harriet  had  in  their  many  interviews  in  London 
bent  a  well-pleased  ear ;  and  when  the  day  came  for  her 
return  to  her  Brompton  seminary,  these  new  lights 
seemed  to  her  mind  to  have  a  practical  bearing  on  the 
forms  and  discipline  of  her  boarding-school.  She  there- 
fore petitioned  her  father  to  be  allowed  to  remain  at  home. 
On  his  refusal,  she  wrote  to  Shelley ;  and,  in  a  sail  and 
evil  hour  for  both,  this  girl,  "  who  had  thrown  herself 
upon  his  protection,"  and  "  with  whom  he  was  not  in 
love,"  *  became  his  wife. 

From  London,  the  young  pair  (whose  united  ages 
amounted  to  thirty-five  years,  Harriet  being  sixteen,  and 
Shelley  nineteen)  went  to  Edinburgh,  and  thence  to 
York.  During  their  residence  in  the  latter  town,  a  new 
inmate  was  added  to  their  circle  in  the  person  of  the 
elder  Miss  Westbrook  —  a  visitor  whose  presence  was  in 
many  respects  unfortunate.  From  strength  of  character 
and  disparity  of  years  (for  she  was  much  older  than  Har- 
riet), she  exercised  a  strong  influence  over  her  sister; 
and  this  influence  was  used  without  much  discretion,  and 
with  little  inclination  to  smooth  the  difficulties  or  promote 
the  happiness  of  the  young  couple. 

Keswick  was  the  next  resting-place  to  which  the  Shel- 
leys  were  tempted  by  the  beauty  of  the  scenery  and  the 
cheapness  of  the  necessaries  of  life,  which  gave  some 
hope   that  their   scanty   income  might  suffice  for  their 

*  These  expressions  are  quoted  from  some  published  letters  of 
Shelley's,  the  authenticity  of  which  I  am  not  able  to  guarantee. 


shelley's  first  marriage.  31 

moderate  wants.  While  residing  here,  the  then  Duke  of 
Norfolk,  who  owned  a  large  extent  of  land  in  the  neigh- 
borhood, greatly  interested  himself  in  Shelley  and  his 
girl  wife,  introduced  them  to  the  neighboring  gentry, 
directed  his  agents  to  furnish  their  house  with  necessary 
accommodations,  and  interceded  (but  in  vain)  with  the 
elder  Mr.  Shelley.  The  young  poet  became  speedily 
acquainted  with  Robert  Southey,  Thomas  De  Quincey, 
and  other  eminent  writers  then  resident  in  the  north. 
With  Southey  he  was  particularly  intimate  for  a  time, 
despite  the  diametrical  opposition  of  their  creeds.  It 
was  in  the  year  1811,  also — but  previous  to  his  marriage 
—  that  Shelley  sought  and  obtained  the  friendship  of 
Leigh  Hunt,  whose  noble-spirited  political  writings  in 
the  Examiner  had  moved  the  highest  admiration  of  the 
youthful  enthusiast.  While  the  latter  was  yet  unknown 
to  the  journalist,  he  had  proposed  to  him,  in  a  letter,  a 
scheme  for  forming  an  association  of  Liberals,  with  a 
view  to  resisting  the  spread  of  despotic  principles ;  and 
this  was  followed  by  Shelley's  self-introduction.  The 
friendship  of  the  two  writers  was  only  broken  by  death. 


32  SHELLEY   MEMORIALS. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

shelley's  acquaintance  with  godwin. 

We  now  come  to  that  period  of  Shelley's  life  when  the 
poet  became  acquainted  with  William  Godwin — a  period 
fraught  with  important  results,  and  one  over  which  it 
will  be  necessary  to  linger. 

An  eminent  place  among  the  writers  of  the  eighteenth 
century  is  due  to  the  author  of  Political  Justice.  He 
came  of  a  family  which  had  long  been  connected  with 
the  Nonconformist  ministry;  for  both  his  father  and 
grandfather  were  Dissenting  preachers  in  their  genera- 
tion, and  the  grandfather  had  enjoyed  the  intimate  friend- 
ship of  Dr.  Watts,  Neale,  and  Baker.  William  Godwin 
wras  born  at  Questwich,  Norfolk,  in  1756.  He  was 
educated  at  the  Hoxton  College  by  Dr.  Kippis  and  Dr. 
Rees,  and  for  some  time  followed  the  profession  of  his 
father  at  Stowmarket,  Suffolk  ;  but,  in  1782,  owing  to  a 
change  in  his  religious  opinions,  he  returned  to  London, 
and  for  ten  years  devoted  himself  with  unwearied 
assiduity  to  historical  and  methaphysical  inquiries.  The 
result  of  this  mental  discipline  was  the  publication,  in 
1793,  of  his  Political  Justice,  the  effect  of  which  work 
on  the  public  mind  is  sufficiently  attested  by  the  fact  that 


shelley's  acquaintance  with  godwin.       33 

three  editions  were  sold  in  as  many  years.  Caleb  Wil- 
liams and  the  Enquirer  followed,  and  gave  Godwin  a 
reputation  which  he  preserved  unsullied  through  the 
whole  of  his  long  life. 

From  the  commencement  of  his  career  in  London,  the 
philosopher  lived  in  a  small  cottage,  without  any  further 
attendance  than  that  of  a  woman  who  came  every  morn- 
ing to  set  the  house  in  order  for  the  day.  Liberal 
overtures  from  the  leaders  of  the  Whig  phalanx,  who 
desired  to  enlist  in  their  service  so  eminent  and  in- 
fluential an  author,  were  repeatedly  made  to  him,  and 
as  often  refused ;  for  Godwin,  like  a  second  Andrew 
Marvell,  disdained  to  be  the  slave  of  party.  This  stern 
independence  of  character,  combined  with  the  mild,  un- 
impassioned  manner  with  which  he  prosecuted  his  in- 
quiries into  subjects  which  most  men  at  that  time 
debated  with  the  fierceness  and  acrimony  of  personal 
strife,  soon  gathered  round  him  a  small  knot  of  disciples, 
who  sat  at  his  feet  and  gathered  up  his  sayings  as  they 
might  have  done  those  of  a  sage  of  ancient  Greece. 
He  became,  as  it  were,  the  recognized  head  of  a  small 
sect ;  and  of  this  sect  Shelley  speedily  regarded  himself 
as  a  member.  The  poet  wrote  to  the  philosopher  from 
Keswick,  and,  frankly  stating  his  position,  his  marriage, 
and  his  prospects,  proceeded  to  reveal  his  political,  re- 
ligious, and  moral  opinions,  and  to  declare  his  long- 
cherished  hope  of  being  on  some  future  day  of  use  to 
his  fellow-creatures.  Towards  this  end,  and  for  the 
better  regulation  of  his  pursuits  and  studies,  he  re- 
quested   the   aid    of    the    author    of    Political   Justice. 

2* 


34  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

Godwin  received  this  unexpected  communication  with 
great  kindness,  and  a  long  and  interesting  correspond- 
ence ensued  between  the  two  writers.  Some  portions 
of  this  will  be  found  in  the  present  volume. 

From  Keswick,  Shelley  went  to  Dublin,  and  during 
this  period  the  influence  of  his  newly  acquired  friend 
and  adviser  was  of  incalculable  benefit  to  him,  in  guard- 
ing him  from  the  consequences  which  his  own  fearless 
impetuosity  would  have  entailed,  in  his  championship  of 
Irish  wrongs.  Ireland  was  at  that  time  a  disgrace  to 
England  and  to  herself.  A  dominant  caste  —  proud,  res- 
olute, and  vindictive,  opposed  to  all  change,  and  certain, 
in  the  last  resort,  of  the  support  of  England's  strength  — 
misruled  a  population  which  was  priest-ridden,  ignorant, 
and  adverse  from  labor.  The  priests  themselves  (with 
the  exception  of  those  who  had  been  specially  educated 
on  the  Continent,  for  the  purpose  of  representing  the  in- 
terests and  maintaining  the  dignity  of  their  church  in  the 
more  polished  circles  of  Dublin)  were  scarcely  more 
literate  than  the  rabble  over  whom  they  possessed  un- 
bounded influence ;  and  the  Union  had  handed  over  to 
still  meaner  minds  and  yet  more  uncleanly  hands  the 
traditionary  struggles  for  the  perquisites  of  a  delegated 
Court, 

Loud  was  the  cry  of  Irish  patriotism  when  Shelley 
visited  the  sister  island,  where  he  flung  himself,  with  his 
usual  impulsive  ardor,  into  the  turbid  stream  of  Hiber- 
nian politics.  It  was  then  that  the  value  of  Godwin's 
calm,  experienced  intellect  became  manifest;  for  there 
is  no  doubt  that  his  letters  supplied  the  necessary  balance 


shelley's  acquaintance  with  Godwin.      35 

of  prudence  and  mature  thought  to  the  youthful  vehe- 
mence of  Shelley's  mind.  This  good  effect  was  aided  by 
an  adventure  which  occurred  to  Bysshe  during  his  ad- 
vocacy of  Irish  grievances.  On  one  occasion,  at  a  meet- 
ing —  probably  a  meeting  of  patriots  —  so  much  ill-will 
against  the  Protestants  was  shown,  that  Shelley  was  pro- 
voked to  remark  that  the  Protestants  were  fellow- Chris- 
tians and  fellow-subjects,  and  were  therefore  entitled  to 
equal  rights  and  equal  toleration  with  the  Papists.  Of 
course,  he  was  forthwith  interrupted  by  savage  yells.  A 
fierce  uproar  ensued,  and  the  denouncer  of  bigotry  was 
compelled  to  be  silent.  At  the  same  meeting,  and  after- 
wards, he  was  even  threatened  with  personal  violence, 
and  the  police  suggested  to  him  the  propriety  of  quitting 
the  country. 

The  philanthropic  association  which  was  to  bestow  Ar- 
cadian days  on  Ireland  was  accordingly  abandoned,  and, 
after  a  brief  stay  in  the  Isle  of  Man,  and  a  residence  of 
some  duration  in  North  Wales,  Shelley  and  his  wife 
sheltered  themselves  in  a  cottage  at  Lymouth,  a  place 
situated  in  a  romantic  part  of  North  Devonshire.  While 
here,  Bysshe  addressed  a  letter  to  Lord  Ellenborough, 
touching  the  sentence  passed  by  him  on  a  man  named 
Eaton,  a  London  bookseller,  for  publishing  the  third  part 
of  Thomas  Paine's  Age  of  Reason.  In  a  letter  to  God- 
win he  says :  — 

"  What  do  you  think  of  Eaton's  trial  and  sentence  ? 
I  mean  not  to  insinuate  that  this  poor  bookseller  has  any 
characteristics  in  common  with  Socrates  or  Jesus  Christ ; 
still,  the  spirit  which  pillories  and  imprisons  him  is  the 


36  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

same  which  brought  them  to  an  untimely  end.  Still, 
even  in  this  enlightened  age,  the  moralist  and  the  re- 
former may  expect  coercion  analogous  to  that  used  with 
the  humble  yet  zealous  imitator  of  their  endeavors." 

The  larger  part  of  the  letter  to  LorchEllenborough  is 
appended  below.*  It  is  a  composition  of  great  eloquence 
and  logical  exactness  of  reasoning,  and  the  truths  which 
it  contains  on  the  subject  of  universal  toleration  are  now 
generally  admitted.  At  the  time  of  writing  this  letter, 
Shelley  was  only  nineteen  years  of  age ;  and,  from  his 
earliest  boyhood  to  his  latest  years,  whatever  varieties  of 
opinion  may  have  marked  his  intellectual  course,  he 
never  for  a  moment  swerved  from  the  noble  doctrine  of 
unbounded  liberty  of  thought  and  speech.  To  him,  the 
rights  of  the  intellect  were  sacred ;  and  all  kings,  teachers, 
or  priests,  who  sought  to  circumscribe  the  activity  of  dis- 
cussion, and  to  check  by  force  the  full  development  of  the 
reasoning  powers,  he  regarded  as  enemies  to  the  inde- 
pendence of  man,  who  did  their  utmost  to  destroy  the 
spiritual  essence  of  our  being. 


"  A  Letter  to  Lord  Ellenborough,  occasioned  by  the 
Sentence  which  he  paused  on  Mr.  D.  J.  Eaton,  as  pub- 
lisher of  the  Third  Part  of  Paine's  '  Age  of  Reason* 

"  '  Deorum  offensa,  Diis  curse.' 

"  '  It  is  contrary  to  the  mild  spirit  of  the  Christian  religion;  for  no 
sanction  can  be  found  under  that  dispensation  which  will  warrant  a 

*  The  omitted  portions  are  the  passages  which  Shelley  introduced 
into  the  notes  to  Queen  Mob,  and  which  are  printed  in  the  collected 
edition  of  his  works. 


shelley's  acquaintance  with  Godwin.       37 

Government  to  impose  disabilities  and  penalties  upon  any  man  on 
account  of  his  religious  opinions.'  —  Marquis  Welleslky's  Speech. 
—Globe,  July  2. 


"  Advertisement.  —  I  have  waited  impatiently  for  these 
last  four  months,  in  the  hope  that  some  pen  fitter  for  the  im- 
portant task  would  have  spared  me  the  perilous  pleasure  of 
becoming  the  champion  of  an  innocent  man.  This  may  serve 
as  an  excuse  for  delay  to  those  who  think  that  I  have  let  pass 
the  aptest  opportunity ;  but  it  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  in 
four  short  months  the  public  indignation  raised  by  Mr.  Eaton's 
unmerited  suffering  can  have  subsided. 


"To  Lord  Ellenborough. 
"My  .Lord, 

"  As  the  station  to  which  you  have  been  called  by  your 
country  is  important,  so  much  the  more  awful  is  your  responsi- 
bility ;  so  much  the  more  does  it  become  you  to  watch  lest  you 
inadvertently  punish  the  virtuous  and  reward  the  vicious. 

"  You  preside  over  a  Court  which  is  instituted  for  the  sup- 
pression of  crime,  and  to  whose  authority  the  people  subjmt 
on  no  other  conditions  than  that  its  decrees  should  be  con- 
formable to  justice. 

"  If  it  should  be  demonstrated  that  a  judge  had  condemned 
an  innocent  man,  the  bare  existence  of  laws  in  conformity  to 
which  the  accused  is  punished  would  but  little  extenuate  his 
offence.  The  inquisitor,  when  he  burns  an  obstinate  heretic, 
may  set  up  a  similar  plea  ;  yet  few  are  sufficiently  blinded  by 
intolerance  to  acknowledge  its  validity.  It  will  less  avail  such 
a  judge  to  assert  the  policy  of  punishing  one  who  has  com- 
mitted no  crime.  Policy  and  morality  ought  to  be  deemed 
synonymous  in  a  court  of  justice  ;  and  he  whose  conduct  has 
been  regulated  by  the  latter  principle  is  not  justly  amenable 
to  any  penal  law  for  a  supposed  violation  of  the  former.  It  is 
true,  my  Lord,  laws  exist  which  suffice  to  screen  you  from  the 
animadversion  of  any  constituted  power,  in  consequence  of 


38  SHELLEY   MEMORIALS. 

the  unmerited  sentence  which  you  have  passed  upon  Mr. 
Eaton ;  but  there  are  no  laws  which  screen  you  from  the  re- 
proof of  a  nation's  disgust  —  none  which  ward  off  the  just 
judgment  of  posterity,  if  that  posterity  will  deign  to  recollect 
you. 

"By  what  right  do  you  punish  Mr.  Eaton?  What  but 
antiquated  precedents,  gathered  from  times  of  priestly  and 
tyrannical  domination,  can  be  adduced  in  palliation  of  an 
outrage  so  insulting  to  humanity  and  justice  ?  Whom  has  he 
injured  ?  What  crime  has  he  committed  V  Wherefore  may 
he  not  walk  abroad  like  other  men,  and  follow  his  accustomed 
pursuits  ?  What  end  is  proposed  in  confining  this  man, 
charged  with  the  commission  of  no  dishonorable  action  ? 
Wherefore  did  his  aggressor  avail  himself  of  popular  preju- 
dice, and  return  no  answer  but  one  of  commonplace  contempt 
to  a  defence  of  plain  and  simple  sincerity  ?  Lastly,  when  the 
prejudices  of  the  jury,  as  Christians,  were  strongly  and  un- 
fairly inflamed  *  against  this  injured  man,  as  a  Deist,  where- 
fore did  not  you,  my  Lord,  check  such  unconstitutional  plead- 
ing, and  desire  the  jury  to  pronounce  the  accused  innocent  or 
criminal  f  without  reference  to  the  particular  faith  which  he 
professed  ? 

"  In  the  name  of  justice,  what  answer  is  there  to  these  ques- 
tions ?  The  answer  which  Heathen  Athens  made  to  Socrates 
is  the  same  with  which  Christian  England  must  attempt  to 
silence  the  advocates  of  this  injured  man.  '  He  has  questioned 
established  opinions.'  Alas  !  the  crime  of  inquiry  is  one  which 
religion  never  has  forgiven.  Implicit  faith  and  fearless  inquiry 
have  in  all  ages  been  irreconcilable  enemies.  Unrestrained 
philosophy  has  in  every  age  opposed  itself  to  the  reveries  of 
credulity  and  fanaticism.  The  truths  of  astronomy  demon- 
strated by  Newton  have  superseded  astrology ;  since  the  mod- 
ern discoveries  in  chemistry,  the  philosopher's  stone  has  no 

*  See  the  Attorney-General's  speech. 

f  By  Mr.  Fox's  Bill  (1791)  juries  are,  in  cases  of  libel,  judges  both 
of  the  law  and  the  fact. 


shelley's  acquaintance  with  Godwin.      39 

longer  been  deemed  attainable.  Miracles  of  every  kind  have 
become  rare  in  proportion  to  the  hidden  principles  which 
those  who  study  nature  have  developed.  That  which  is  false 
will  ultimately  be  controverted  by  its  own  falsehood.  That 
which  is  true  needs  but  publicity  to  be  acknowledged.  .  .  . 

"  Wherefore,  I  repeat,  is  Mr.  Eaton  punished  ?  Because 
he  is  a  Deist.  And  what  are  you,  my  Lord  ?  A  Christian. 
Ha,  then  !  the  mask  has  fallen  off.  You  persecute  him  be- 
cause his  faith  differs  from  yours.  You  copy  the  persecutors 
of  Christianity  in  your  actions,  and  are  an  additional  proof 
that  your  religion  is  as  bloody,  barbarous,  and  intolerant  as 
theirs.  If  some  Deistical  bigot  in  power  (supposing  such  a 
character  for  the  sake  of  illustration)  should,  in  dark  and  bar- 
barous ages,  have  enacted  a  statute  making  the  profession  of 
Christianity  criminal,  if  you,  my  Lord,  were  a  Christian  book- 
seller, and  Mr.  Eaton  a  judge,  those  arguments  which  you 
consider  adequate  to  justify  yourself  for  the  sentence  you  have 
passed  must  likewise  suffice,  in  the  suppositionary  case,  to  jus- 
tify Mr.  Eaton  in  sentencing  you  to  Newgate  and  the  pillory 
for  being  a  Christian.  Whence  is  any  right  derived,  but  that 
which  power  confers,  for  persecution  ?  Do  you  think  to  con- 
vert Mr.  Eaton  to  your  religion  by  embittering  his  existence  ? 
You  might  force  him  by  torture  to  profess  your  tenets,  but  he 
could  not  believe  them  except  you  should  make  them  credible, 
which  perhaps  exceeds  your  power.  Do  you  think  to  please 
the  God  you  worship  by  this  exhibition  of  your  zeal  ?  If  so, 
the  demon  to  whom  some  nations  offer  human  hecatombs  is 
less  barbarous  than  the  Deity  of  civilized  society 

"  If  the  law  de  hceretico  comburendo  has  not  been  formally 
repealed,  I  conceive  that,  from  the  promise  held  out  by  your 
Lordship's  zeal,  we  need  not  despair  of  beholding  the  flames 
of  persecution  rekindled  in  Smithfield.  Even  now  the  lash 
that  drove  Descartes  and  Voltaire  from  their  native  country, 
the  chains  which  bound  Galileo,  the  flames  which  burned  Va- 
nini,  again  resound.  .  .  .  Does  the  Christian  God,  whom 
his  followers  eulogize  as  the  Deity  of  humility  and  peace  —  He, 


40  SHELLEY   MEMORIALS. 

the  regenerator  of  the  world,  the  meek  reformer  —  authorize 
one  man  to  rise  against  another,  and,  because  lictors  are  at  his 
beck,  to  chain  and  torture  him  as  an  infidel  ? 

"  When  the  Apostles  went  abroad  to  convert  the  nations, 
were  they  enjoined  to  stab  and  poison  all  who  disbelieved  the 
divinity  of  Christ's  mission  ?  Assuredly,  they  would  have 
been  no  more  justifiable  in  this  case  than  he  is  at  present  who 
puts  into  execution  the  law  which  inflicts  pillory  and  imprison- 
ment on  the  Deist. 

"  Has  not  Mr.  Eaton  an  equal  right  to  call  your  Lordship 
an  infidel  as  you  have  to  imprison  him  for  promulgating  a 
different  doctrine  from  that  which  you  profess  ?  What  do  I 
say  !  Has  he  not  even  a  stronger  plea  ?  The  word  infidel 
can  only  mean  anything  when  applied  to  a  person  who  pro- 
fesses that  which  he  disbelieves.  The  test  of  truth  is  an  undi- 
vided reliance  on  its  inclusive  powers ;  the  test  of  conscious 
falsehood  is  the  variety  of  the  forms  under  whic  s  it  presents 
itself,  and  its  tendency  towards  employing  whatever  coercive 
means  may  be  within  its  command,  in  order  to  procure  the 
admission  of  what  is  unsusceptible  of  support  from  reason  or 
persuasion 

"  I  hesitate  not  to  affirm  that  the  opinions  which  Mr.  Eaton 
sustained,  when  undergoing  that  mockery  of  a  trial,  at  which 
your  Lordship  presided,  appear  to  me  more  true  and  good 
than  those  of  his  accuser ;  but,  were  they  false  as  the  visions 
of  a  Calvinist,  it  still  would  be  the  duty  of  those  who  love 
liberty  and  virtue  to  raise  their  voice  indignantly  against  a 
reviving  system  of  persecution  —  against  the  coercively  re- 
pressing any  opinion,  which,  if  false,  needs  but  the  opposition 
of  truth  —  which,  if  true,  in  spite  of  force  must  ultimately 
prevail. 

"  Mr.  Eaton  asserted  that  the  Scriptures  were,  from  begin- 
ning to  end,  a  fable.*  He  did  so  ;  and  the  Attorney-General 
denied  the  proposition  which  he  asserted,  and  asserted  that 
which  he  denied.     What  singular  conclusion  is  deducible  from 

*  See  the  Attorney-General's  speech. 


shelley's  acquaintance  with  godwin.      41 

this  fact  ?  None,  but  that  the  Attorney-General  and  Mr. 
Eaton  sustained  two  opposite  opinions.  The  Attorney-General 
puts  some  obsolete  and  tyrannical  laws  in  force  against  Mr. 
Eaton,  because  he  publishes  a  book  tending  to  prove  that  cer- 
tain supernatural  events,  which  are  supposed  to  have  taken 
place  eighteen  centuries  ago,  in  a  remote  corner  of  the  world, 
did  not  actually  take  place.  But  how  is  the  truth  or  falsehood 
of  the  facts  in  dispute  relevant  to  the  merit  or  demerit  at- 
tachable to  the  advocates  of  the  two  opinions  ?  No  man  is 
accountable  for  his  belief,  because  no  man  is  capable  of  direct- 
ing it.  Mr.  Eaton  is  therefore  totally  blameless.  What  are 
we  to  think  of  the  justice  of  a  sentence  which  punishes  an 
individual  against  whom  it  is  not  even  attempted  to  attach  the 
slightest  stain  of  criminality  ? 

"  It  is  asserted  that  Mr.  Eaton's  opinions  are  calculated  to 
subvert  morality.  How  ?  What  moral  truth  is  spoken  of 
with  irreverence  or  ridicule  in  the  book  which  he  published  ? 
Morality,  or  the  duty  of  a  man  and  a  citizen,  is  founded  on 
the  relations  which  arise  from  the  association  of  human  beings, 
and  which  vary  with  the  circumstances  produced  by  the  dif- 
ferent states  of  this  association.  This  duty,  in  similar  situa- 
tions, must  be  precisely  the  same  in  all  ages  and  nations. 
The  opinion  contrary  to  this  has  arisen  from  a  supposition 
that  the  will  of  God  is  the  source  or  criterion  of  morality.  It 
is  plain  that  the  utmost  exertion  of  Omnipotence  could  not 
cause  that  to  be  virtuous  which  actually  is  vicious.  An  all- 
powerful  Demon  might,  indubitably,  annex  punishments  to 
virtue  and  rewards  to  vice,  but  could  not  by  these  means 
effect  the  slightest  change  in  their  abstract  and  immutable 
natures.  Omnipotence  could  vary,  by  a  providential  interpo- 
sition, the  relations  of  human  society  ;  in  this  latter  case,  what 
before  was  virtuous  would  become  vicious,  according  to  the 
necessary  and  natural  result  of  the  alteration  ;  but  the  abstract 
natures  of  the  opposite  principles  would  have  sustained  not  the 
slightest  change.  For  instance,  the  punishment  with  which 
society  restrains  the  robber,  the  assassin,  and  the  ravisher,  is 


42  SHELLEY   MEMORIALS. 

just,  laudable,  and  requisite.  We  admire  and  respect  the 
institutions  which  curb  those  who  would  defeat  the  ends  for 
which  society  was  established ;  but,  should  a  precisely  similar 
coercion  be  exercised  against  one  who  merely  .expressed  his 
disbelief  of  a  system  admitted  by  those  intrusted  with  the  exec- 
utive power,  using  at  the  same  time  no  methods  of  promulga- 
tion but  those  afforded  by  reason,  certainly  this  coercion 
would  be  eminently  inhuman  and  immoral ;  and  the  supposi- 
tion that  any  revelation  from  an  unknown  Power  avails  to 
palliate  a  persecution  so  senseless,  unprovoked,  and  indefensi- 
ble, is  at  once  to  destroy  the  barrier  which  reason  places  be- 
tween vice  and  virtue,  and  leave  to  unprincipled  fanaticism  a 
plea  whereby  it  may  excuse  every  act  of  frenzy  which  its  own 
wild  passions,  not  the  inspirations  of  the  Deity,  have  engen- 
dered. 

"  Moral  qualities  are  such  as  only  a  human  being  can  pos- 
sess. To  attribute  them  to  the  Spirit  of  the  Universe,  or  to 
suppose  that  it  is  capable  of  altering  them,  is  to  degrade  God 
into  man,  and  to  annex  to  this  incomprehensible  Being  quali- 
ties incompatible  with  any  possible  definition  of  his  nature. 

"  It  may  be  here  objected  :  Ought  not  the  Creator  to  possess 
the  perfections  of  the  creature  ?  No.  To  attribute  to  God 
the  moral  qualities  of  man,  is  to  suppose  him  susceptible  of 
passions,  which,  arising  out  of  corporeal  organization,  it  is 
plain  that  a  pure  Spirit  cannot  possess But  even  sup- 
pose, with  the  vulgar,  that  God  is  a  venerable  old  man,  seated 
on  a  throne  of  clouds,  his  breast  the  theatre  of  various  pas- 
sions, analogous  to  those  of  humanity,  his  will  changeable  and 
uncertain  as  that  of  an  earthly  king ;  —  still,  goodness  and 
justice  are  qualities  seldom  nominally  denied  him,  and  it  will 
be  admitted  that  he  disapproves  of  any  action  incompatible 
with  those  qualities.  Persecution  for  opinion  is  unjust.  With 
what  consistency,  then,  can  the  worshippers  of  a  Deity  whose 
benevolence  they  boast  embitter  the  existence  of  their  fellow 
being,  because  his  ideas  of  that  Deity  are  different  from  those 
which  they  entertain  ?    Alas !  there  is  no  consistency  in  those 


shelley's  acquaintance  with  Godwin.   43 

persecutors  who  worship  a  benevolent  Deity  ;  those  who  wor- 
ship a  demon  would  alone  act  consonantly  to  these  principles 
by  imprisoning  and  torturing  in  his  name. 

"  Persecution  is  the  only  name  applicable  to  punishment  in- 
flicted on  an  individual  in  consequence  of  his  opinions.  What 
end  is  persecution  designed  to  answer  ?  Can  it  convince  him 
whom  it  injures  ?  Can  it  prove  to  the  people  the  falsehood  of 
his  opinions?  It  may  make  -him  a  hypocrite,  and  them 
cowards ;  but  bad  means  can  promote  no  good  end.  The  un- 
prejudiced mind  looks  with  suspicion  on  a  doctrine  that  needs 
the  sustaining  hand  of  power. 

"  Socrates  was  poisoned  because  he  dared  to  combat'  the 
degrading  superstitions  in  which  his  countrymen  were  educated. 
Not  long  after  his  death,  Athens  recognized  the  injustice  of 
his  sentence ;  his  accuser,  Melitus,  was  condemned,  and  Soc- 
rates became  a  demi-god 

"  Man  !  the  very  existence  of  whose  most  cherished  opinions 
depends  from  a  thread  so  feeble,  arises  out  of  a  source  so  equiv- 
ocal,* learn  at  least  humility ;  own  at  least  that  it  is  possible 
for  thyself  also  to  have  been  seduced  by  education  and  circum- 
stance into  the  admission,  of  tenets  destitute  of  rational  proof, 
and  the  truth  of  which  has  not  yet  been  satisfactorily  demon- 
strated. Acknowledge  at  least  that  the  falsehood  of  thy 
brother's  opinions  is  no  sufficient  reason  for  his  meriting  thy 
hatred.  What !  because  a  fellow  being  disputes  the  reasona- 
bleness of  thy  faith,  wilt  thou  punish  him  with  torture  and  im- 
prisonment? If  persecution  for  religious  opinions  were  ad- 
mitted by  the  moralist,  how  wide  a  door  would  not  be  opened 
by  which  convulsionists  of  every  kind  might  make  inroads  on 
the  peace  of  society !  How  many  deeds  of  barbarism  and 
blood  would  not  receive  a  sanction  !  But  I  will  demand,  if 
that  man  is  not  rather  entitled  to  the  respect  than  the  dis- 
countenance of  society,  who,  by  disputing  a  received  doctrine 

*  He  has  just  been  indicating  what  he  regards  as  the  weak  points 
in  the  proofs  of  the  Christian  religion. —  Ed. 


44  SHELLEY   MEMORIALS. 

either  proves  its  falsehood  and  inutility  (thereby  aiming  at  the 
abolition  of  what  is  false  and  useless),  or  gives  to  its  adherents 
an  opportunity  of  establishing  its  excellence  and  truth.  Surely 
this  can  be  no  crime.  Surely  the  individual  who  devotes  his 
time  to  fearless  and  unrestricted  inquiry  into  the  grand  ques- 
tions arising  out  of  our  moral  nature  ought  rather  to  receive 
the  patronage,  than  encounter  the  vengeance,  of  an  enlightened 
legislature.  I  would  have  you  to  know,  my  Lord,  that  fetters 
of  iron  cannot  bind  or  subdue  the  soul  of  virtue.  From  the 
damps  and  solitude  of  its  dungeon  it  ascends,  free  and  un- 
daunted, whither  thine,  from  the  pompous  seat  of  judgment, 
dare  not  soar.  I  do  not  warn  you  to  beware  lest  your  profes- 
sion as  a  Christian  should  make  you  forget  that  you  are  a 
man ;  but  I  warn  you  against  festinating  that  period  which, 
under  the  present  coercive  system,  is  too  rapidly  maturing, 
when  the  seats  of  justice  shall  be  the  seats  of  venality  and 
slavishness,  and  the  cells  of  Newgate  become  the  abodes  of  all 
that  is  honorable  and  true. 

"  I  mean  not  to  compare  Mr.  Eaton  with  Socrates  or  Jesus^; 
he  is  a  man  of  blameless  and  respectable  character ;  he  is  a 
citizen  unimpeached  with  crime  ;  if,  therefore,  his  rights  as  a 
citizen  and  a  man  have  been  infringed,  they  have  been  in- 
fringed by  illegal  and  immoral  violence.  But  I  will  assert 
that,  should  a  second  Jesus  arise  among  men,  should  such  a 
one  as  Socrates  again  enlighten  the  earth,  lengthened  impris- 
onment and  infamous  punishment  (according  to  the  regimen 
of  persecution  revived  by  your  Lordship)  would  effect  what 
hemlock  and  the  cross  have  heretofore  effected,  and  the  stain 
on  the  national  character,  like  that  on  Athens  and  Judea, 
would  remain  indelible,  but  by  the  destruction  of  the  history 
in  which  it  is  recorded 

"  The  horrible  and  wide-wasting  enormities,  which  gleam 
like  comets  through  the  darkness  of  Gothic  and  superstitious 
ages,  are  regarded  by  the  moralist  as  no  more  than  the  neces- 
sary effects  of  known  causes ;  but,  when  an*  enlightened  age 
and  nation  signalizes  itself  by  a  deed  becoming  none  but  bar- 


shelley's  acquaintance  with  Godwin.       45 

barians  and  fanatics,  philosophy  itself  is  even  induced  to  doubt 
whether  human  nature  will  ever  emerge  from  the  pettishness 
and  imbecility  of  its  childhood.  The  system  of  persecution, 
at  whose  new  birth  you,  my  Lord,  are  one  of  the  presiding 
mid  wives,  is  not  more  impotent  and  wicked  than  inconsistent. 
The  press  is  loaded  with  what  are  called  (ironically,  I  should 
conceive)  proofs  of  the  Christian  religion ;  these  books  are 
replete  with  invective  and  calumny  against  infidels;  they 
presuppose  that  he  who  rejects  Christianity  must  be  utterly 
divested  of  reason  and  feeling;  they  advance  the  most  un- 
supported assertions,  and  take  as  first  principles  the  most 
revolting  dogmas.  The  inferences  drawn  from  these  assumed 
premises  are  imposingly  logical  and  correct ;  but  if  a  foun- 
dation is  weak,  no  architect  is  needed  to  foretell  the  insta- 
bility of  the  superstructure.  If  the  truth  of  Christianity  is  not 
disputable,  for  what  purpose  are  these  books  written  ?  If 
there  are  sufficient  to  prove  it,  what  further  need  of  contro- 
versy ?     .     .     .     . 

"  Let  us  suppose  that  some  half-witted  philosopher  should 
assert  that  the  earth  was  the  centre  of  the  universe,  or  that 
ideas  could  enter  the  human  mind  independently  of  sensation 
or  reflection.  This  man  would  assert  what  is  demonstrably 
incorrect;  he  would  promulgate  a  false  opinion.  Yet,  would 
he  therefore  deserve  pillory  and  imprisonment  ?  By  no  means ; 
probably  few  would  discharge  more  correctly  the  duties  of  a 
citizen  and  a  man.  I  admit  that  the  case  above  stated  is  not 
precisely  in  point.  The  thinking  part  of  the  community  has 
not  received  as  indisputable  the  truth  of  Christianity,  as  they 
have  that  of  the  Newtonian  system.  A  very  large  portion  of 
society,  and  that  powerfully  and  extensively  connected,  de- 
rives its  sole  emolument  from  the  belief  of  Christianity  as 
a  popular  faith. 

"  To  torture  and  imprison  the  assertor  of  a  dogma,  however 
ridiculous  and  false,  is  highly  barbarous  and  impolitic.  How, 
then,  does  not  the  cruelty  of  persecution  become  aggravated 
when  it  is  directed  against  the  opposcr  of  an  opinion  yet  un- 


46  SHELLEY   MEMORIALS. 

der  dispute,  and  which  men  of  unrivalled  acquirements,  pene- 
trating genius,  and  stainless  virtue,  have  spent,  and  at  last 
sacrificed,  their  lives  in  combating  ! 

"The  time  is  rapidly  approaching — I  hope  that  you,  my 
Lord,  may  live  to  behold  its  arrival  —  when  the  Mahometan, 
the  Jew,  the  Christian,  the  Deist,  and  the  Atheist,  will  live 
together  in  one  community,  equally  sharing  the  benefits  which 
arise  from  its  association,  and  united  in  the  bonds  of  charity 
and  brotherly  love.  My  Lord,  you  have  condemned  an  inno- 
cent man  ;  no  crime  was  imputed  to  him,  and  you  sentenced 
him  to  torture  and  imprisonment.  I  have  not  addressed  this 
letter  to  you  with  the  hope  of  convincing  you  that  you  have 
acted  wrong.  The  most  unprincipled  and  barbarous  of  men 
are  not  unprepared  with  sophisms  to  prove  that  they  would 
have  acted  in  no  other  manner,  and  to  show  that  vice  is  virtue. 
But  I  raise  my  solitary  voice,  to  express  my  disapprobation,  so 
far  as  it  goes,  of  the  cruel  and  unjust  sentence  you  passed 
upon  Mr.  Eaton  —  to  assert,  so  far  as  I  am  capable  of  influ- 
encing, those  rights  of  humanity  which  you  have  wantonly 
and  unlawfully  infringed. 

"  My  Lord,  yours,"  &c. 


LITERARY    CORRESPONDENCE.  47 


CHAPTER  V. 

LITERARY    CORRESPONDENCE:    1812. 

In  the  solitude  of  Lymouth,  Shelley  read  much,  pro- 
jected many  works,  and  addressed  several  letters  on  lit- 
erary and  social  topics  to  his  friends.  These  letters  will, 
for  the  most  part,  speak  for  themselves,  and  will  unfold, 
to  a  certain  extent  in  an  autobiographical  form,  some  of 
the  ensuing  phases  of  the  poet's  life.  The  first  of  them 
is  addressed  to  Mr.  Thomas  Hookham,  of  Old  Bond 
Street,  a  valued  friend  of  Shelley,  and  runs  as  follows: — 

"Lymouth)  Barnstaple,  Aug.  18th,  1812. 
"Dear  Sir, 

"  Your  parcel  arrived  last  night,  for  which  I  am  much 
obliged.  Before  I  advert  to  any  other  topic,  I  will  explain  the 
contents  of  mine  in  which  this  is  enclosed.  In  the  first  place,  I 
send  you  fifty  copies  of  the  Letter  [to  Lord  Ellenborough]. 
I  send  you  a  copy  of  a  work  which  I  have  procured  from 
America,  and  which  I  am  exceedingly  anxious  should  be  pub- 
lished. It  develops,  as  you  will  perceive  by  the  most  super- 
ficial reading,  the  actual  state  of  republicanized  Ireland,  and 
appears  to  me,  above  all  things,  calculated  to  remove  the 
prejudices  which  have  too  long  been  cherished  of  that  op- 
pressed country.  I  enclose  also  two  pamphlets  which  I  printed 
and  distributed  whilst  in  Ireland  some  months  ago  (no  book- 
seller daring  to  publish  them).     They  were  on  that  account 


48  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

attended  with  only  partial  success,  and  I  request  your  opinion 
as  to  the  probable  result  of  publishing  them  with  the  annexed 
suggestions  in  one  pamphlet,  with  an  explanatory  preface,  in 
London.     They  would  find  their  way  to  Dublin. 

"  You  confer  on  me  an  obligation,  and  involve  a  high  compli- 
ment, by  your  advice.  I  shall,  if  possible,  prepare  a  volume 
of  essays,  moral  and  religious,  by  November;  but,  all  my 
MSS.  now  being  in  Dublin,  and  from  peculiar  circumstances 
not  immediately  obtainable,  I  do  not  know  whether  I  can.  I 
enclose  also,  by  way  of  specimen,  all  that  I  have  written  of  a 
little  poem  begun  since  my  arrival  in  England.  I  conceive  I 
have  matter  enough  for  six  more  cantos.  You  will  perceive 
that  I  have  not  attempted  to  temper  my  constitutional  enthu- 
siasm in  that  poem.  Indeed,  a  poem  is  safe  ;  the  iron-souled 
Attorney-General  would  scarcely  dare  to  attack  [it].  The 
Past,  the  Present,  and  the  Future,  are  the  grand  and  compre- 
hensive topics  of  this  poem.  I  have  not  yet  half  exhausted 
the  second  of  them.* 

"  I  shall  take  the  liberty  of  retaining  the  two  poems  which 
you  have  sent  me  (Mr.  Peacock's),  and  only  regret  that  my 
powers  are  so  circumscribed  as  to  prevent  me  from  becoming 
extensively  useful  to  your  friend.  The  poems  abound  with  a 
genius,  an  information,  the  power  and  extent  of  which  I 
admire,  in  proportion  as  I  lament  the  object  of  their  applica- 
tion. Mr.  Peacock  conceives  that  commerce  is  prosperity ; 
that  the  glory  of  the  British  flag  is  the  happiness  of  the  British 
people ;  that  George  III.,  so  far  from  having  been  a  warrior 
and  a  tyrant,  has  been  a  patriot.  To  me  it  appears  otherwise ; 
and  I  have  rigidly  accustomed  myself  not  to  be  seduced  by 
the  loveliest  eloquence  or  the  sweetest  strains  to  regard  with 
intellectual  toleration  that  which  ought  not  to  be  tolerated  by 
those  who  love  liberty,  truth,  and  virtue.  I  mean  not  to  say 
that  Mr.  Peacock  does  not  love  them ;  but  I  mean  to  say  that 
he  regards  those  means  [as]  intrumental  to  their  progress, 
which  I  regard  [as]  instrumental  to  their  destruction.     (See 

*  The  poem  here  alluded  to  is  (I  conceive)  Queen  Mab.  —  Ed. 


LITERARY    CORRESPONDENCE.  49 

Genius  of  the  Thames,  pp.  24,  26,  28,  76,  98.)  At  the  same 
time,  I  am  free  to  say  that  the  poem  appears  to  be  far  beyond 
mediocrity  in  genius  and  versification,  and  the  conclusion  pf 
Palmyra  the  finest  piece  of  poetry  I  ever  read.  I  have  not 
had  time  to  read  the  Philosophy  of  Melancholy,  and  of  course 
am  only  half  acquainted  with  that  genius  and  those  powers 
whose  application  I  should  consider  mj  self  rash  and  imper- 
tinent in  criticizing,  did  I  not  conceive  that  frankness  and 
justice  demand  it. 

u  I  should  esteem  it  as  a  favor  if  you  would  present  the  en- 
closed letter  to  the  Chevalier  Lawrence.  I  have  read  his 
Empire  of  the  Nairs ;  nay,  have  it.  Perfectly  and  decidedly 
do  I  subscribe  to  the  truth  of  the  principles  which  it  is  designed 
to  establish. 

"  I  hope  you  will  excuse,  nay  and  doubt  not  but  you  will, 
the  frankness  I  have  used.     Characters  of  our  liberality  are 
so  wondrous  rare,  that  the  sooner  they  know  each  other,  and 
the  fuller  and  more  complete  that  knowledge  is,  the  better. 
"  Dear  Sir,  permit  me  to  remain 

"  Yours,  very  truly, 

"Percy  B.  Shelley." 

u  I  am  about  translating  an  old  French  work,  professedly 
by  M.  Mirabaud  —  not  the  famous  one  —  La  Systane  de  la 
Nature.     Do  you  know  anything  of  it  ? 

"  To  T.  Hookham,  Esq.,  Bond  Street,  London" 

Although  by  this  time  several  letters  had  passed  be- 
tween Shelley  and  Godwin,  they  had  never  met.  The 
former  therefore  addressed  to  the  latter  a  warm  invitation 
to  pay  him  and  his  wife  a  rural  visit  at  their  cottage, 
where,  in  the  perusal  of  ancient  authors,  and  the  inter- 
change of  discourse  on  high  social  themes,  they  might 
become  personally  acquainted.  Godwin,  however,  did 
not  go  immediately  to  Lymouth ;   and,  in  a  letter  dated 


50  SHELLEY   MEMORIALS. 

July  7th,  1812,  Shelley  declines  to  press  the  invitation, 
because,  as  his  wife  suggested  to  him,  their  wished-for 
guest  was  at  that  time  in  delicate  health,  and  their  rooms 
"  were  complete  servants*  rooms."  Allusion  is  made  in 
the  same  letter  to  the  Shelleys  going  up  to  London,  and 
liviiag  with  the  Godwins.  On  the  18th  of  September,  the 
author  of  Political  Justice  unexpectedly  arrived  at  Ly- 
mouth  —  only  to  find  that  the  young  couple  had  left  since 
August  31st.  This  must  have  been  a  great  vexation  to 
Godwin;  for,  in  a  communication  to  his  wife,  written 
from  Bristol,  previous  to  embarking  for  Devonshire,  he 
speaks  of  Shelley  as  "  the  young  man  who  has  so  greatly 
excited  my  curiosity."  A  subsequent  letter  to  Mrs. 
Godwin  gives  the  details  of  the  misadventure. 

"Lymouth,  Valley  of  Stones,  Sept.  19th,  1812. 
"My  dear  Love, 

"  The  Shelleys  are  gone !  have  been  gone  these  three 
weeks.  I  hope  you  hear  this  first  from  me  ;  I  dread  lest  every 
day  may  have  brought  you  a  letter  from  them,  conveying  this 
strange  intelligence.  I  know  you  would  conjure  up  a  thou- 
sand frightful  ideas  of  my  situation  under  this  disappointment. 
I  have  myself  a  disposition  to  take  quietly  any  evil,  when  it 
can  no  longer  be  avoided,  when  it  ceases  to  be  attended  with 
uncertainty,  and  when  I  can  already  compute  the  amount  of 
it.  I  heard  this  news  instantly  on  my  arrival  at  this  place, 
and  therefore  walked  immediately  (that  is,  as  soon  as  I  had 
dined)  to  the  Valley  of  Stones,  that,  if  I  could  not  have  what 
was  gone  away,  I  might  at  least  not  fail  to  visit  what  re- 
mained. 

"  You  advise  me  to  return  by  sea.  I  thank  you  a  thousand 
times  for  your  kind  and  considerate  motive  in  this ;  but  cer- 
tainly nothing  more  repulsive  could  be  proposed  to  me  at  this 


LITERARY    CORRESPONDENCE.  51 

moment  than  a  return  by  sea.  I  left  Bristol  at  one  o'clock  on 
Wednesday,  and  arrived  here  at  four  o'clock  on  Friday  (yes- 
terday), after  a  passage  of  fifty-one  hours.  We  had  fourteen 
passengers,  and  only  four  berths ;  therefore,  I  lay  down  only 
once  for  a  few  hours.  We  had  very  little  wind,  and  accord- 
ingly regularly  tided  it  for  six  hours,  and  lay  at  anchor  for 
six,  till  we  reached  this  place.  This  place  is  fifteen  miles  short 
of  Ilfracombe.  1£  the  captain,  after  great  entreaty  from  the 
mate  and  one  of  his  passengers  (for  I  cannot  entreat  for  such 
things),  [had  not]  lent  me  his  own  boat  to  put  me  ashore,  I 
really  think  I  should  have  died  with  ennui.  We  anchored, 
Wednesday  night,  somewhere  within  sight  of  the  Holmes 
(small  islands,  so  called,  in  the  Bristol  Channel).  The  next 
night  we  came  within  sight  of  Minehead  ;  but  the  evening  set 
in  with  an  alarming  congregation  of  black  clouds,  the  sea 
rolled  vehemently  without  a  wind  (a  phenomenon,  which  is 
said  to  portend  a  storm),  and  the  captain,  in  a  fright,  put  over 
to  Penarth,  near  Cardiff,  on  the  coast  of  Wales,  and  even  told 
us  that  he  should  put  us  ashore  there  for  the  night.  At 
Penarth,  he  said,  there  was  but  one  house ;  but  it  had  a  fine 
large  barn  annexed  to  it,  capable  of  accommodating  us  all. 
This  was  a  cruel  reverse  to  me  and  my  fellow  passengers, 
who  had  never  doubted  that  we  should  reach  the  end  of  our 
voyage  some  time  in  the  second  day.  By  the  time,  however, 
we  had  made  the  Welsh  Coast,  the  frightful  symptoms  disap- 
peared, the  night  became  clear  and  serene,  and  I  landed  here 
happily  —  that  is,  without  further  accident  —  the  next  day. 
These  are  small  events  to  persons  accustomed  to  a  seafaring 
life,  but  they  were  not  small  to  me  ;  and  you  will  allow  that 
they  were  not  much  mitigated  by  the  elegant  and  agreeable 
accommodations  of  our  crazed  vessel.  I  was  not  decisively 
sea-sick ;  but  had  qualmish  and  discomforting  sensations  from 
the  time  we  left  the  Bristol  river,  particularly  after  having  lain 
down  a  few  hours  on  Wednesday  night. 

"  Since  writing  the  above,  I  have  been  to  the  house  where 
Shelley  lodged,  and  I  bring  good  news.    I  saw  the  woman  of 


52  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

the  house  and  I  was  delighted  with  her.  She  is  a  good  crea- 
ture, and  quite  loved  the  Shelleys.  They  lived  here  nine 
weeks  and  three  days.  They  went  away  in  a  great  hurry, 
and  in  debt  to  her  and  two  more.  They  gave  her  a  draft 
upon  the  Honorable  Mr.  Lawleys,  brother  to  Lord  Cloncurry, 
and  they  borrowed  of  her  twenty-nine  shillings,  beside  31.  that 
she  got  for  them  from  a  neighbor,  all  of  which  they  faithfully 
returned  when  they  got  to  Ilfracombe,  the  people  not  choosing 
to  change  a  bank-note  which  had  been  cut  in  half  for  safety  in 
sending  it  by  the  post.*  But  the  best  news  is,  that  the 
woman  says  they  will  be  in  London  in  a  fortnight.  This  quite 
comforts  my  heart." 

In  the  restlessness  of  his  disposition,  Shelley  had  pro- 
ceeded to  Tanyralt,  Caernarvonshire,  where  he  hired  a 
cottage  belonging  to  a  Mr.  Maddox.  This  gentleman  had 
reclaimed  several  thousand  acres  from  the  sea ;  but  the 
embankment  proved  insufficient  during  an  unusually  high 
tide.  The  poor  cottagers  living  on  this  hazardous  land 
were  thrown  into  great  distress  by  the  incursions  of  the 
sea  consequent  on  the  breaches  made  in  the  earthworks  ; 
and  Shelley  now  exhibited  a  remarkable  proof  of  that 
noble  munificence  which  was  one  of  the  most  striking 
features  of  his  character.  He  personally  solicited  sub- 
scriptions from  the  gentlemen  of  the  neighborhood,  and 
himself  headed  the  list  with  a  donation  of  500/.,  though 
his  means,  as  the  reader  has  seen,  were  small.  But  he 
did  not  allow  his  zeal  to  stop  even  here  ;  for,  accom- 
panied by  his  wife,  he  hurried  up  to  London,  to  obtain 
further  succor.  He  was  finally  successful  in  his  efforts  ; 
the  embankment  was  repaired  and  strengthened,  and  the 
inhabitants  were  protected  from  future  risk. 

*  They  lmd  received  only  the  liall.  —  Ed. 


LITERARY    CORRESPONDENCE.  53 

During  his  visit  to  London,  Shelley  made  the  personal 
acquaintance  of  Godwin,  with  whom  he  lived  for  a  time ; 
and  to  the  philosopher's  daughter  Fanny  he  addressed 
the  subjoined  letter,  after  having  rather  abruptly  left 
their  house :  — 

Dec.  10th,  1812. 
"  Dear  Fanny, 

"  So  you  do  not  know  whether  it  is  proper  to  write  to  me? 
Now,  one  of  the  most  conspicuous  considerations  that  arise  from 
such  a  topic  is — who  and  what  am  I  ?  I  am  one  of  those  for- 
midable and  long-clawed  animals  called  a  man,  and  it  is  not 
until  I  have  assured  you  that  I  am  one  of  the  most  inoffensive 
of  my  species,  that  I  live  on  vegetable  food,  and  never  bit 
since  I  was  born,  that  I  venture  to  obtrude  myself  on  your  at- 
tention. But  to  be  serious.  I  shall  feel  much  satisfaction  in 
replying,  with  as  much  explicitness  as  my  nature  is  capable  of, 
to  any  questions  you  may  put  to  me.  I  know  that  I  have  in 
some  degree  forfeited  a  direct  claim  to  your  confidence  and 
credit,  and  that  of  your  inestimable  circle ;  but,  if  you  will 
believe  me  as  much  as  you  can,  I  will  be  as  sincere  as  I  can. 
I  certainly  am  convinced  that,  with  the  exception  of  one  or 
two  isolated  instances,  I  am  so  far  from  being  an  insincere 
man,  that  my  plainness  has  occasionally  given  offence,  and 
caused  some  to  accuse  me  of  being  defective  in  that  urbanity 
and  toleration  which  is  supposed  to  be  due  to  society.  Allow 
me,  in  the  absence  of  the  topics  which  are  eventually  to  be  dis- 
cussed between  us,  to  assume  the  privilege  you  have  claimed, 
and  ask  a  question.  How  is  Harriet  a  fine  lady  ?  You  indi- 
rectly accuse  her  in  your  letter  of  this  offence — to  me  the 
most  unpardonable  of  all.  The  ease  and  simplicity  of  her 
habits,  the  unassuming  plainness  of  her  address,  the  uncalcu- 
lated  connection  of  her  thought  and  speech,  have  ever  formed, 
in  my  eyes,  her  greatest  charms ;  and  none  of  these  are  com- 
patible with  fashionable  life,  or  the  attempted  assumption  of 
its  vulgar  and  noisy  eclat.     You  have  a  prejudice  to  contend 


54  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

with  in  making  me  a  convert  to  this  last  opinion  of  yours, 
which,  so  long  as  I  have  a  living  and  daily  witness  to  its  fu- 
tility before  me,  I  fear  will  be  insurmountable.  The  second 
accusation  (the  abruptness  of  our  departure)  has  more  foun- 
dation, though  in  its  spirit  it  is  not  less  false  and  futile  than 
the  first.  It  must  indeed,  I  confess  it,  have  appeared  insensi- 
ble and  unfeeling ;  it  must  have  appeared  an  ill  return  for  all 
the  kind  greetings  we  had  received  at  your  house,  to  leave  it 
in  haste  and  coldness  —  to  leave  even  the  enlightened  and 
zealous  benevolence  of  Godwin  ever  [active]  for  good,  and 
never  deterred  or  discouraged  in  schemes  for  rectifying  our 
perplexed  affairs  —  to  bid  not  one  adieu  to  one  of  you;  but, 
had  you  been  placed  in  a  situation  where  you  might  justly 
have  balanced  all  our  embarrassments,  qualms,  and  fluctua- 
tions, had  seen  the  opposite  motives  combating  in  our  minds 
for  mastery,  had  felt  some  tithe  of  the  pain  with  which  at 
length  we  submitted  to  a  galling  yet  unappealable  necessity, 
you  would  have  sympathized  rather  than  condemned,  have 
pitied  rather  than  criminated  us  unheard.  Say  the  truth  : 
did  not  a  sense  of  the  injustice  of  our  supposed  unkindness 
add  some  point  to  the  sarcasms  which  we  found  occasionally 
in  your  last  letter  ?     .     .     . 

"  If  all  my  laughs  were  not  dreadful,  Sardonic  grins,  dis- 
graceful to  the  most  hideous  of  Cheshire  cats,  I  should  certainly 
laugh  at  two  things  in  your  last  letter.  The  one  is,  "  not  know- 
ing whether  it  is  proper  to  write  to  me,"  lest  —  God  knows  what 
might  happen ;  and  the  other  is,  comparing  our  movement  to 
that  of  a  modern  novel.  Now,  a  novel  (modern  or  ancient) 
never  moves  but  as  the  reader  moves,  and  I,  being  a  reader, 
if  I  take  up  one  of  these  similitudes  of  our  progress,  never  can 
get  beyond  the  third  line  in  the  second  page ;  therefore,  you 
ought  rather  to  have  compared  a  novel  to  a  snail  than  to  us. 

"  Now,  my  dear  Fanny,  do  not  be  angry  at  either  my  laughs, 
my  criticisms,  or  my  queries.  They  proceed  from  levity,  my 
proper  view  of  things,  and  my  desire  of  setting  them  before 
you  in  what  I  consider  a  right  light. 


LITERARY    CORRESPONDENCE.  55 

"  Your  questions  shall  be  answered  with  precision  ;  and,  if 
hope  in  my  quality  as  a  man  be  not  too  tremendous,  I  shall 
acquire  from  the  result  an  interesting  and  valuable  corre- 
spondent. 

"  With  much  esteem,  your  true  friend, 

"P.  B.  Shelley. 

"  To  Miss  Fanny  Godwin." 

The  following  letter  of  literary  advice  from  Godwin  to 
Shelley  possesses  great  interest :  — 

"Dec.  10th,  1812. 
"My  dear  Shelley, 

"  I  sit  down  the  sooner  to  answer  your  very  kind  and  ex- 
cellent letter,  because,  if  you  are  really  desirous  to  make  an 
experiment  of  a  plan  of  my  recommending,  it  would  be  unfair 
and  unjust  in  me  to  withhold  the  information  you  ask. 

"  The  light  in  which  I  should  wish  every  man,  every  young 
man  in  particular,  to  consider  the  study  of  history,  is  as  a 
means  of  becoming  acquainted  with  whatever  of  noble,  useful, 
generous,  and  admirable,  human  nature  is  capable  of  design- 
ing and  performing.  To  see  all  this  illustrated  by  examples 
carrying  it  directly  into  act,  is,  perhaps,  superior  to  all  the 
theories  and  speculations  that  can  possibly  be  formed.  His- 
tory, in  its  most  comprehensive  sense,  is  a  detail  of  all  that 
man  has  done  in  solitude  or  in  society,  so  far  as  it  can  be  ren- 
dered matter  of  record.  It  is  our  own  fault,  therefore,  if  we 
do  not  select  and  dwell  upon  the  best.  This  is  so  much  matter 
of  feeling  among  all  who  read  history,  that  it  is  universally 
agreed  that,  next  to  the  history  of  our  own  country,  the  his- 
tories of  Greece  and  Rome  most  deserve  to  be  studied.  Why  ? 
Because  in  them  the  achievements  of  the  human  species  have 
been  most  admirable  ;  in  Rome,  in  high  moral  and  social  quali- 
ties; in  Greece,. both  in  them  and  also  in  literature  and  art. 

"  The  just  way  of  criticizing  man,  in  my  opinion,  is  analo- 
gous to  the  right  way  of  criticizing  works  of  literature  and  art. 
When  you  talk  to  me  of  Milton  and  Shakspeare,  I  should  be- 


56  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

gin  with  saying :  Let  us  set  their  faults  out  of  our  view  ;  not 
that  they  are  never  to  be  considered,  but  that  this  makes  no 
part  of  what  is  most  peculiar  in  them.  Faults  are  like  paper 
and  ink  ;  no  book  can  exist  without  them ;  but  they  have 
nothing  to  do,  in  the  first  instance,  with  deciding  upon  the 
merits  of  an  author.  Put  a  new  book  into  my  hands,  and  the 
first  question  I  shall  ask  you,  if  I  question  you  wisely,  is : 
What  are  its  excellencies  ?  Does  it  exhibit  any  grand  views  ? 
Does  it  contain  any  beautiful  passages?  Here  all  the  good 
and  all  the  honor  lies.  Just  so  is  man.  I  am  bound  first  to 
examine  whether  there  were  really  great  and  high  qualities  in 
Cato,  in  Regulus,  in  Brutus,  in  Solon,  in  Themistocles ;  and 
when  I  have  made  my  very  heart  familiar  with  the  conception 
of  these,  I  will  then  proceed,  if  you  like,  to  the  examination 
of  those  defects  by  which  they  were  allied  to  the  weakness 
and  errors  of  our  common  nature.  A  true  student  is  a  man 
seated  in  his  chair,  and  surrounded  with  a  sort  of  intrench- 
ment  and  breastwork  of  books.  It  is  for  boarding-school 
misses  to  read  one  book  at  a  time.  Particularly  when  I  am 
sifting  out  facts,  either  of  science  or  history,  I  must  place  my- 
self in  the  situation  of  a  man  making  a  book,  rather  than  read- 
ing books.  When  I  have  studied  the  Grecian  history  in 
Homer,  in  Herodotus,  Thucydides,  Xenophon,  and  Plutarch, 
together  with  those  of  the  moderns  that  are  most  capable,  or 
most  elaborate,  in  unfolding  or  appreciating  the  materials  the 
ancients  have  left  us,  I  shall  then  begin  to  know  what  Greece 
was.  I  need  not,  of  course,  mention  how  superior  is  the  in- 
formation and  representation  of  contemporaries  to  those  who 
come  afterwards  and  write  their  stories  over  again.  The 
compilers  are  a  sort  of  middle  class  between  the  real  authors 
and  the  makers  of  dictionaries.  True  reading  is  investiga- 
tion—  not  a  passive  reception  of  what  our  author  gives  us, 
but  an  active  inquiry,  appreciation,  and  digestion  of  his  sub- 
ject. 

"  Yet  there  is  a  certain  difficulty  in  this.     We  ought  first  to 
take  a  comprehensive  survey  of  every  subject,  and  a  private 


LITERARY    CORRESPONDENCE.  57 

view  of  every  author  who,  for  his  own  merits,  is  worth  our 
studying.  Hence  it  follows  that  there  are  various  processes  to 
be  successively  performed  by  him  who  would  master  the  his- 
tory of  any  one  country  or  memorable  period ;  and  hence  it 
appears  (what  has  been  observed  in  various  forms  by  many 
writers)  that  it  is  almost  impossible  for  any  man  to  get  fully  to 
the  end  of  any  subject.  There  is  another  rule,  that,  both  from 
experience  and  reason,  I  should  strongly  recommend  to  any 
one  desirous  of  becoming  a  student,  and  that  is,  to  have  three 
or  four  different  studies  for  different  parts  of  the  day,  or,  if 
you  will,  to  be  taken  up  in  a  sort  of  rotation  in  each  day. 
Such  a  plan  adds  wonderfully  to  the  stimulus  moving  us,  and 
to  the  progress  actually  made.  I  have  for  the  greater  part  of 
my  life  read  at  least  for  one  hour  a  day  in  some  Greek,  and 
for  one  hour  in  some  Latin,  author ;  and  I  am  sure  I  have 
done  twice  as  much  as  I  sheuld  have  done  in  any  other  way 
of  proceeding. 

"  You  ask  me  concerning  some  of  our  elder  writers,  and  I 
will  therefore  very  briefly  mention  a  few.  I  observed  to  you 
that  Shakspeare  had  many  contemporary  dramatists,  any  one 
of  which  would  have  done  for  almost  the  best  man  of  any  other 
age.  Such  were  Ben  Jonson,  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  Web- 
ster, Ford,  Dekker,  Heywood,  and  Massinger.  Then  what 
illustrious  poets  had  those  times  in  Spenser,  Drayton,  and 
Daniel !  not  to  mention  the  minor  poets  (I  mean  in  quantity), 
such  as  Davies  and  Donne.  Chapman's  Homer  has  infinitely 
more  fire  than  any  other  translation  I  have  ever  read.  He 
was  thoroughly  invested  and  penetrated  with  the  sacredness 
of  the  poetic  character. 

"  To  proceed  from  poetry  to  prose.  Shakspeare,  Bacon, 
and  Milton  are  the  three  greatest  contemplative  characters 
that  this  island  has  produced.  Therefore,  as  I  put  Shakspeare 
and  Milton  at  the  head'  of  our  poetry,  I  put  Bacon  and  Milton 
at  the  head  of  our  prose.  Yet  what  astonishing  prose  writers 
had  we  in  Sir  Thomas  Browne  and  Jeremy  Taylor !  not  to 
mention  two  others,  only  inferior  to  them,  Robert  Burton  and 
3* 


58  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

Isaac  Walton.     Hobbes  and  Shelton,  also,  as  prose  translators 
may  almost  rank  with  Chapman  in  verse. 

"  Those  were  the  times  when  authors  thought.  Every  line 
is  pregnant  with  sense,  and  the  reader  is  inevitably  put  to  the 
expense  of  thinking  likewise.  The  writers  were  richly  fur- 
nished with  conception,  imagination,  and  feeling ;  and  out  of 
the  abundance  of  their  hearts  flowed  the  lucubrations  they 
committed  to  paper.  You  have  what  appears  to  me  a  false 
taste  in  poetry.  You  love  a  perpetual  sparkle  and  glittering, 
such  as  are  to  be  found  in  Darwin,  and  Southey,  and  Scott, 
and  Campbell." 

Some  light  is  thrown  on  the  peculiar  literary  tastes 
and  antipathies  of  Shelley  by  a  letter  which  he  wrote 
about  this  time  to  Mr.  Hookham,  commissioning  that 
gentleman  to  purchase  certain  books  for  him.  The 
disgust  of  history  here  confessed  has  probably  been 
shared  by  all  minds  which  have  longed  for  a  state  of 
ideal  perfection ;  but  the  young  student  resolved  to 
follow  the  advice  of  ins  self-chosen  guide,  whose  words 
the  reader  has  just  perused. 

"  Tanyralt,  Dec.  17th,  1812. 
"My  dear  Sir, 

"  You  will  receive  the  Biblical  Extracts  *  in  a  day  or  two 
by  the  twopenny  post.  I  confide  them  to  the  care  of  a  person 
going  to  London.  Would  not  Daniel  J.  Eaton  publish  them  ? 
Could  the  question  be  asked  him  in  any  manner  ? 

"  I  am  also  preparing  a  volume  of  minor  poems,  respecting 
whose  publication  I  shall  request  your  judgment,  both  as  pub- 
lisher and  friend.  A  very  obvious  question  would  be  — Will 
they  sell  or  not  ?  Subjoined  is  a  list  of  books  which  I  wish 
you  to  send  me  very  soon.     I  am  determined  to  apply  myself 

*  This  work  has  never  been  published.  —  Ed. 


LITERARY   CORRESPONDENCE.  59 

to  a  study  that  is  hateful  and  disgusting  to  my  very  soul,  but 
which  is,  above  all  studies,  necessary  for  him  who  would  be 
listened  to  as  a  mender  of  antiquated  abuses.  I  mean  that 
record  of  crimes  and  miseries,  History.  You  see  that  the 
metaphysical  works  to  which  my  heart  hankers  are  not  numer- 
ous in  this  list.  One  thing  will  you  take  care  of  for  me  ?  that 
those  standard  and  respectable  works  on  history,  &c,  be  of 
the  cheapest  possible  editions.  With  respect  to  metaphysical 
works,  I  am  less  scrupulous. 

"Spinoza  you  may  or  may  not  be  able  to  obtain.  Kant  is 
translated  into  Latin  by  some  Englishman.  I  would  prefer 
that  the  Greek  classics  should  have  Latin  or  English  versions 
printed  opposite.  If  not  to  be  obtained  thus,  they  must  be 
sent  otherwise. 

"  Mrs.  Shelley  is  attacking  Latin  with  considerable  resolu- 
tion, and  can  already  read  many  odes  in  Horace.  She  unites 
with  her  sister  and  myself  in  best  wishes  to  yourself  and 
brother. 

"  Your  very  sincere  friend, 

"  P.  B.  Shelley. 

UT.  Hookham,  Esq., 

"15  Bond  Street,  London." 


SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

POETICAL    LABORS    AND    DOMESTIC    SORROWS. 

The  poetical  element  in  Shelley's  nature  —  that  fac- 
ulty by  which  we  mainly  know  him,  though  he  himself 
conceived  it  to  be  secondary  to  his  love  of  logic  and 
metaphysics  —  was  now  beginning  to  develop  itself  more 
fully  and  systematically  than  it  had  yet  done.  That 
he  must  have  felt  an  intense  pleasure  in  the  gradual 
unfolding  of  that  gorgeous  imagination  which  afterwards 
produced  so  many  images  of  almost  supernatural  loveli- 
ness, cannot  be  doubted ;  but,  at  the  same  time,  his  keen, 
critical  perceptions  detected  with  remarkable  accuracy 
the  faults  of  his  early  productions.  In  writing  to  Mr. 
Hookham,  during  the  January  of  1813,  he  says:  "My 
poems  will,  I  fear,  little  stand  the  criticism  even  of 
friendship.  Some  of  the  later  ones "  (it  should  be 
recollected  that  these  "  later  ones  "  must  now  be  regarded 
as  among  the  early  fruit)  "  have  the  merit  of  conveying 
a  meaning  in  every  word,  and  all  are  faithful  pictures 
of  my  feelings  at  the  time  of  writing  them ;  but  they  are 
in  a  great  measure  obscure.  One  fault  they  are  in- 
disputably exempt  from  —  that  of  being  a  volume  of 
fashionable  literature.  I  doubt  not  but  your  friendly 
hand  will  clip  the  wings  of  my  Pegasus  considerably." 


POETICAL    LABORS   AND    DOMESTIC    SORROWS.       61 

The  early  poems  of  Shelley,  however,  showed  nothing 
more  than  the  faults  incidental  to  all  young  writers  ; 
and  from  the  midst  of  their  greatest  obscurities  issued 
a  golden  dawn  of  promise. 

But  the  pursuits  of  art  were  always  cheerfully  aban- 
doned by  the  poet  when  any  occasion  arose  for  the 
exercise  of  his  philanthropy,  or  whenever  he  conceived 
himself  called  upon  to  vindicate  and  support  an  op- 
pressed fellow-struggler  for  liberty  and  justice.  In  the 
year  1813,  one  of  a  series  of  government  prosecutions 
of  the  Examiner  newspaper,  for  speaking  with  more 
freedom  on  political  topics  than  rulers  at  that  time  would 
tolerate,  ended  in  the  conviction  of  Messrs.  John  and 
Leigh  Hunt,  who  were  sentenced  to  two  years'  imprison- 
ment, and  condemned  to  pay  a  fine  of  1,000/.  Hereupon 
Shelley  wrote  from  Tanyralt,  as  follows,  to  Mr.  Hook- 
ham: — 

"February,  1813. 
"My  dear  Sir, 

"  I  am  boiling  with  indignation  at  the  horrible  injustice  and 
tyranny  of  the  sentence  pronounced  on  Hunt  and  his  brother ; 
and  it  is  on  this  subject  that  I  write  to  you.  Surely  the  seal 
of  abjectness  and  slavery  is  indelibly  stamped  upon  the  char- 
acter of  England. 

"  Although  I  do  not  retract  in  the  slightest  degree  my  wish 
for  a  subscription  for  the  widows  and  children  of  those  poor 
men  hung  at  York,  yet  this  1,000/.  which  the  Hunts  are  sen- 
tenced to  pay  is  an  affair  of  more  consequence.  Hunt  is  a 
brave,  a  good,  and  an  enlightened  man.  Surely  the  public,  for 
whom  Hunt  has  done  so  much,  will  repay  in  part  the  great  debt 
of  obligation  which  they  owe  the  champion  of  their  liberties 
and  virtues ;  or  are  they  dead,  cold,  stone-hearted,  and  insen- 
sible — brutalized  by  centuries  of  unremitting  bondage  ?   How- 


62  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

ever  that  may  be,  they  surely  may  be  excited  into  some  slight 
acknowledgment  of  his  merits.  Whilst  hundreds  of  thousands 
are  sent  to  the  tyrants  of  Russia,  he  pines  in  a  dungeon,  far 
from  all  that  can  make  life  desired. 

"  Well,  I  am  rather  poor  at  present ;  but  I  have  20£.  which 
is  not  immediately  wanted.  Pray,  begin  a  subscription  for 
the  Hunts  ;  put  down  my  name  for  that  sum,  and,  when  I  hear 
that  you  have  complied  with  my  request,  I  will  send  it  you.* 
N6w,  if  there  are  any  difficulties  in  the  way  of  this  scheme  of 
ours,  for  the  love  of  liberty  and  virtue,  overcome  them.  O, 
that  I  might  wallow  for  one  night  in  the  Bank  of  England ! 

"  Queen  Mab  is  finished  and  transcribed.  I  am  now  pre- 
paring the  notes,  which  shall  be  long  and  philosophical.  You 
will  receive  it  with  the  other  poems.  I  think  that  the  whole 
should  form  one  volume ;  but  of  that  we  can  speak  hereafter. 

"  As  to  the  French  Encyclopedic,  it  is  a  book  which  I  am 
desirous  —  very  desirous  —  of  possessing;  and,  if  you  could 
get  me  a  few  months'  credit  (being  at  present  rather  low  in 
cash),  I  should  very  much  desire  to  have  it. 

"  My  dear  sir,  excuse  the  earnestness  of  the  first  part  of  my 
letter.    I  feel  warmly  on  this  subject,  and  I  flatter  myself  that, 
so  long  as  your  own  independence  and  liberty  remain  uncom- 
promised,  you  are  inclined  to  second  my  desires. 
"  Your  very  sincere  friend, 

"  P.  B.  Shelley. 

"  P.  S.  —  If  no  other  way  can  be  devised  for  this  subscrip- 
tion, will  you  take  the  trouble  on  yourself  of  writing  an  ap- 
propriate advertisement  for  the  papers,  inserting,  by  way  of 
stimulant,  my  subscription  ? 

"  On  second  thoughts,  I  enclose  the  20Z." 

*  The  Hunts,  with  a  noble  magnanimity,  for  which  they  long  suf- 
fered in  a  worldly  point  of  view,  however  great  might  have  been  the 
reward  of  their  own  consciences,  refused  to  accept  any  subscription, 
public  or  private,  and  paid  the  fine  entirely  out  of  their  own  pock- 
ets. —  Ed. 


POETICAL    LABORS    AND    DOMESTIC    SORROWS.       63 

According  to  Mrs.  Shelley,  in  the  collected  edition  of 
her  husband's  works,  and  to  the  poet  himself,  as  we  shall 
shortly  see,  the  latter  was  eighteen  when  he  wrote 
Queen  Mab;  but  it  would  appear  from  the  foregoing 
that  it  was  at  least  not  completed  before  he  was  in  his 
twenty-first  year.  He  never  published  it  (though  at  first 
he  designed  to  do  so),  but  distributed  copies  amongst  his 
friends.  In  1821,  however,  when  Shelley  was  in  Italy, 
an  edition  was  surreptitiously  issued  ;  on  which  its  author 
applied  to  Chancery  for  an  injunction  to  restrain  the  sale. 
In  .addressing  the  Examiner  (under  date  June  22d)  on 
the  subject,  he  thus  spoke  of  the  chief  composition  of 
his  youth:  — 

"A  poem,  entitled  Queen  Mab,  was  written  by  me  at 
the  age  of  eighteen  —  I  dare  say,  in  a  sufficiently  intem- 
perate spirit.  I  have  not  seen  this  production  for  several 
years  ;  I  doubt  not  but  that  it  is  perfectly  worthless  in  point 
of  literary  composition,  and  that,  in  all  that  concerns 
moral  and  political  speculation,  as  well  as-  in  die  subtiler 
discriminations  of  metaphysical  aud  religious  doctrine,  it 
is  still  more  crude  and  immature.  I  am  a  devoted 
enemy  to  religious,  political,  and  domestic  oppression; 
and  I  regret  this  publication,  not  so  much  from  literary 
vanity,  as  because  I  fear  it  is  better  fitted  to  injure  than 
to  serve  the  sacred  cause  of  freedom."  And  in  a  letter  to 
his  publisher,  Mr.  Oilier,  dated  June  11th,  1821,  he  uses 
almost  the  same  words,  and  speaks  of  the  poem  as  "  villa- 
nous  trash  "  —  in  which  sweeping  condemnation,  however, 
many  readers  will  disagree  with  him.  He  continues :  — 
"In  the  name  of  poetry,  and  as  you  are  a  bookseller 


64  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

(you  observe  the  strength  of  these  conjurations),  pray, 
give  all  manner  of  publicity  to  my  disapprobation  of  this 
publication ;  in  fact,  protest  for  me  in  an  advertisement 
in  the  strongest  terms.  I  ought  to  say,  however)  that  I 
am  obliged  to  this  piratical  fellow  in  one  respect ;  that 
he  has  omitted,  with  a  delicacy  for  which  I  thank  him 
heartily,  a  foolish  dedication  to  my  late  wife,  the  publica- 
tion of  which  would  have  annoyed  me,  and  indeed  is  the 
only  part  of  the  business  that  could  seriously  have  an- 
noyed me,  although  it  is  my  duty  to  protest  against  the 
whole.  I  have  written  to  my  attorney  to  do  what  he 
can  to  suppress  it,  although  I  fear  that,  after  the  prec- 
edent of  Sou  they,  there  is  little  probability  of  an  injunc- 
tion being  granted."  The  "  fear  "  here  expressed  proved 
to  be  well  based.  The  law  gives  no  protection  to  a 
heretical  book,  and  in  fact  refuses  to  acknowledge  it, 
except  as  the  object  of  a  prosecution ;  and  so  the  Court 
of  Chancery  connived  at  the  sale  of  a  work,  the  opinions 
of  which  it  held  to  be  pernicious. 

The  more  exalted  Platonical  speculations  of  his  later 
life  naturally  made  Shelley  discontented  with  the  some- 
what cold,  though  qualified,  materialism  of  Queen  Mab. 
But  it  is  a  mistake  to  describe  that  poem  as  utterly 
atheistical  in  its  tendency.  It  is  rather  pantheistical, 
since,  while  it  rejects  the  hypothesis  of  a  creative  God, 
it  affirms  the  existence  of  "  a  pervading  Spirit,  coeternal 
with  the  universe."  Passages  might  be  quoted  from  it, 
full  of  deep  yet  modest  piety,  as  regarded  from  the 
author's  point  of  view  —  a  point  which  must  be  conceded 
to  the  believers  in  any  creed.     The  involuntary  tendency 


POETICAL    LABORS    AND    DOMESTIC    SORROWS.       65 

of  a  poet  to  recognize  spiritual  existences  constantly 
breaks  forth,  and  peoples  the  world  with  Fairies  and 
Genii.  The  immortality  of  the  soul,  and  its  essential 
difference  from  the  body,  are  likewise  acknowledged  — 
nay,  even  passionately  enforced.  But,  undoubtedly,  the 
poem  and  the  notes  are  anything  but  orthodox.  Shelley 
•regarded  the  conventional  religion  as  gross,  contradictory, 
and  tending  to  oppression  and  cruelty ;  and  history  sup- 
plied him  with  many  dismal  facts  in  support  of  that  view. 
He  saw,  moreover,  that  the  Christianity  of  worldly- 
minded  men  is  not  sincere.  —  that  their  practice  is  at  war 
with  their  profession ;  and,  so  seeing,  he  spoke  out  with 
all  the  vehemence  of  youth.  For  publishing  these  bold 
comments  on-  the  popular  faith,  Mr.  Moxon,  as  late  as 
1840,  was  prosecuted  and  convicted.  As  a  literary  pro- 
duction, Queen  Mab  will  always  possess  interest,  because 
of  the  vigorous  indications  it  contains  of  an  expanding 
genius,  already  haunted  with  images  of  splendor  and  with 
utterances  of  sonorous  melody ;  but  it  cannot  be  denied 
that  it  sometimes  betrays  an  adherence  to  that  conven- 
tional style  of  poetry  which  was  then  passing  away  from 
our  literature,  and  from  which  Shelley  himself  afterwards 
widely  diverged.  The  notes  exhibit  a  large  extent  of 
reading ;  and,  whatever  may  be  thought  of  the  doctrines 
enforced,  no  candid  reader  will  refuse  to  admire  the 
subtilty  of  reasoning  and  the  mastery  of  style  which  are 
here  evinced  by  a  mere  youth. 

At  Tanyralt,  as  at  all  other  places,  Shelley's  benevo- 
lence was  in  constant  activity.  The  reader  has  already 
seen  how  munificently  it  was  exercised  when  the  sea 


66  SHELLEY   MEMORIALS. 

broke  through^  the  feeble  barrier  on  which  the  safety  of 
many  of  the  poor  cottagers  depended ;  but  this,  though 
the  most  conspicuous,  was  not  the  only  instance.  Mr. 
Maddox,  in  subsequent  years,  told  Captain  Medwin,  a 
relative  of  the  poet,  and  one  of  his  biographers,  that 
Shelley  was  constantly  relieving  the  humble  and  neces- 
sitous, and  that  he  would  visit  them  in  their  homes,  and 
supply  them,  during  the  bleak  winter  months,  with  food, 
clothes,  and  fuel. 

Yet  this  continual  beneficence  could  not  save  Shelley 
from  an  attempt  on  his  life,  of  a  most  atrocious  and  ex- 
traordinary kind ;  for  the  facts  will  not  allow  us  to  hope 
that  the  horrible  scene  was  the  creation  of  an  over-excited 
and  almost  morbidly  sensitive  brain.  It  is  true  that 
there  is  something  of  a  nightmare  character  in  the  inci- 
dents ;  but  the  testimony  of  Mrs.  Shelley  gives  the  stamp 
of  reality  to  the  affair.  Miss  Westbrook  was  also  in  the 
house  at  the  time,  and  often,  in  after  years,  related  the 
circumstance  as  a  frightful  fact.  The  details  of  this 
strange  circumstance  are  given  by  Shelley  and  his  wife 
in  letters  to  Mr.  Hookham  :  — 

"  My  dear  Sir, 

"  I  have  just  escaped  an  atrocious  assassination.     Oh  ! 
send  me  20/.,  if  you  have  it !  *     You  will  perhaps  hear  of  me 

no  more.  " friend, 

"  Percy  Shelley." 

*  The  incoherence  of  the  few  words  here  written  by  Shelley  shows 
the  agitated  state  of  his  mind  at  the  time.  It  would  appear  that, 
after  sending  off  the  20?.  for  the  Hunt  subscription,  he  was  in  want 
of  money.  Hence  the  request  to  Mr:  Hookham  for  a  little  temporary 
accommodation,  to  enable  him  to  make  the  necessary  removal  from 
Tanyralt 


POETICAL   LABORS   AND    DOMESTIC    SORROWS.      67 

Postscript  by  Mrs.  Shelley. 

"  Mr.  Shelley  is  so  dreadfully  nervous  to-day  from  having 
been  up  all  night,  that  I  am  afraid  what  he  has  written  will 
alarm  you  very  much.  We  intend  to  leave  this  place  as  soon 
as  possible,  as  our  lives  are  not  safe  so  long  as  we  remain.  It 
is  no  common  robber  we  dread,  but  a  person  who  is  actuated 
by  revenge,  and  who  threatens  my  life,  and  my  sister's  as 
well.  If  you  can  send  us  the  money,  it  will  greatly  add  to 
our  comfort. 

"  Sir,  I  remain  your  sincere  friend, 

"  H.  Shelley. 

"  T.  Hookham,  Esq." 

Mr.  Hookham  answered  this  letter  by  sending  a  remit- 
tance, which  was  thus  acknowledged  :  — 

"Bangor  Ferry,  March  Gth,  1813. 
"My  dear  Friend, 

"In  the  first  stage  of  our  journey  towards  Dublin,  we 
met  with  your  letter.  How  shall  I  express  to  you  what  I  felt 
of  gratitude,  surprise,  and  pleasure  —  not  so  much  that  the  re- 
mittance rescued  us  from  a  situation  of  peculiar  perplexity, 
but  that  one  there  was,  who,  by  disinterested  and  unhesitating 
confidence,  made  amends  to  our  feelings,  wounded  by  the  sus- 
picion, coldness,  and  villany  of  the  world.  If  the  discovery 
of  truth  be  a  pleasure  of  singular  purity,  how  far  surpassing 
is  the  discovery  of  virtue  ! 

"  I  am  now  recovered  from  an  illness  brought  on  by  watch- 
ing, fatigue,  and  alarm  ;  and  we  are  proceeding  to  Dublin,  to 
dissipate  the  unpleasant  impressions  associated  with  the  scene 
of  our  alarm. 

"  We  expect  to  be  there  on  the  8th.  You  shall  then  hear 
the  details  of  our  distresses.  The  ball  of  the  assassin's  pistols 
(he  fired  at  me  twice)  penetrated  my  nightgown,  and  pierced 
the  wainscot.  He  is  yet  undiscovered,  though  not  unsuspected, 
as  you  will  learn  from  my  next. 

"  Unless  you  knew  us  all  more  intimately,  you  cannot  con- 


68  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

ceive  with  what  fervor  and  sincerity  my  wife  and  sister  join 
with  me  to  you  in  gratitude  and  esteem. 

"  Yours  ever  faithfully  and  affectionately, 

"Percy  B.  Shelley. 

"  P.  S.  —  Though  overwhelmed  by  our  own  distresses,  we  are 
by  no  means  indifferent  to  those  of  liberty  and  virtue.  From 
the  tenor  of  your  letter,  I  augur  that  you  have  applied  the 
201.  I  sent  to  the  benefit  of  the  Hunts.  I  am  anxious  to  hear 
further  of  the  success  of  this  experiment.  My  direction  is  — 
35  Great  Cuffe  Street,  Dublin.  By  your  kindness  and  gen- 
erosity, we  are  perfectly  relieved  from  all  pecuniary  difficul- 
ties. We  only  wanted  a  little  breathing  time,  which  the  rapid- 
ity of  our  persecutions  was  unwilling  to  allow  us.  We  shall 
readily  repay  the  20/.  when  I  hear  from  my  correspondent  in 
London  ;  but  when  can  I  repay  the  friendship,  the  disinterest- 
edness, and  the  zeal  of  your  confidence  ? 

"  T.  Hookham,  Esq." 

The  most  complete  account  of  the  attack  is  that  con- 
tained in  the  following  letter  from  Mrs.  Shelley  to  Mr. 
Hookham  :  — 

"  35  Cuffe  Street,  Stephen's  Green,  Dublin, 
March  11th,  [1813]. 
"  My  dear  Sir, 

"  We  arrived  here  last  Tuesday, 'after  a  most  tedious  pas- 
sage of  forty  hours,  during  the  whole  of  which  time  we  were 
dreadfully  ill.  I  am  afraid  no  diet  will  prevent  us  from  the 
common  lot  of  suffering,  when  obliged  to  take  a  sea-voyage. 

"  Mr.  S.  promised  you  a  recital  of  the  horrible  events  that 
caused  us  to  leave  Wales.  I  have  undertaken  the  task,  as  I 
wish  to  spare  him,  in  the  present  nervous  state  of  his  health, 
everything  that  can  recall  to  his  mind  the  horrors  of  that 
night. 

"  On  Friday  night,  the  26th  of  February,  we  retired  to  bed 
between  ten  and  eleven  o'clock.     We  had  been  in  bed  about 


POETICAL    LABORS    AND    DOMESTIC    SORROWS.      69 

half  an  hour,  when  Mr.  S.  heard  a  noise  proceeding  from  one 
of  the  parlors.  He  immediately  went  down  stairs  with  two 
pistols,  which  he  had  loaded  that  night,  expecting  to  have 
occasion  for  them.  He  went  into  the  billiard-room,  where  he 
heard  footsteps  retreating ;  he  followed  into  another  little 
room,  which  was  called  an  office.  He  there  saw  a  man  in  the 
act  of  quitting  the  room,  through  a  glass  door  which  opened 
into  the  shrubbery.  The  man  then  fired  at  Mr.  S.,  which  he 
avoided.  Bysshe  then  fired,  but  it  flashed  in  the  pan.  The 
man  then  knocked  Bysshe  down,  and  they  struggled  on  the 
ground.  Bysshe  then  fired  his  second  pistol,  which  he  thought 
wounded  him  in  the  shoulder,  as  he  uttered  a  shriek  and  got 
up,  when  he  said  these  words :  — '  By  God,  I  will  be  revenged ! 
I  will  murder  your  wife  ;  I  will  ravish  your  sister  !  By  God, 
I  will  be  revenged ! '  He  then  fled  —  as  we  hoped,  for  the 
night.  Our  servants  were  not  gone  to  bed,  but  were  just 
going,  when  tins  horrible  affair  happened.  This  was  about 
eleven  o'clock.  We  all  assembled  in  the  parlor,  where  we 
remained  for  two  hours.  Mr.  S.  then  advised  us  to  retire, 
thinking  it  impossible  he  would  make  a  second  attack.  We 
left  Bysshe  and  one  man-servant,  who  had  only  arrived  that 
day,  and  who  knew  nothing  of  the  house,  to  sit  up.  I  had 
been  in  bed  three  hours,  when  I  heard  a  pistol  go  off.  I  im- 
mediately ran  down  stairs,  when  I  perceived  that  Bysshe's 
flannel  gown  had  been  shot  through,  and  the  window-curtain. 
Bysshe  had  sent  Daniel  to  see  what  hour  it  was,  when  he 
heard  a  noise  at  the  window.  He  went  there,  and  a  man 
thrust  his  arm  through  the  glass,  and  fired  at  him.  Thank 
Heaven !  the  ball  went  through  his  gown,  and  he  remained 
unhurt.  Mr.  S.  happened  to  stand  sideways ;  had  he  stood 
fronting,  the  ball  must  have  killed  him.  Bysshe  fired  his  pis- 
tol, but  it  would  not  go  off;  he  then  aimed  a  blow  at  him 
with  an  old  sword,  which  we  found  in  the  house.  The  assassin 
attempted  to  get  the  sword  from  him,  and  just  as  he  was 
getting  it  away,  Dan  rushed  into  the  room,  when  he  made  his 
escape. 


70  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

"  This  was  at  four  in  the  morning.  It  had  been  a  most  dread- 
ful night ;  the  wind  was  as  loud  as  thunder,  and  the  rain  de- 
scended in  torrents.  Nothing  has  been  heard  of  him ;  and 
we  have  every  reason  to  believe  it  was  no  stranger,  as  there  is 
a  man  of  the  name  of  Leeson,  who,  the  next  morning  that  it 
happened,  went  and  told  the  shopkeepers  of  Tremadoc  that 
it  was  a  tale  of  Mr.  Shelley's,  to  impose  upon  them,  that  he 
might  leave  the  country  without  paying  his  bills.  This  they 
believed,  and  none  of  them  attempted  to  do  anything  towards 
his  discovery. 

"  We  left  Tanyralt  on  Saturday,  and  stayed,  till  everything 
was  ready  for  our  leaving  the  place,  at  the  Solicitor- General 
of  the  county's  house,  who  lived  seven  miles  from  us.  This 
Mr.  Leeson  had  been  heard  to  say,  that  he  was  determined  to 
drive  us  out  of  the  country.  He  once  happened  to  get  hold 
of  a  little  pamphlet  which  Mr.  S.  had  printed  in  Dublin  ;  this 
he  sent  up  to  Government.  In  fact,  he  was  forever  saying 
something  against  us,  and  that  because  we  were  determined 
not  to  admit  him  to  our  house,  because  we  had  heard  his  char- 
acter, and,  from  many  acts  of  his,  we  found  that  he  was  malig- 
nant to  the  greatest  degree,  and  cruel. 

"  The  pleasure  we  experienced  on  reading  your  letter  you 
may  conceive,  at  the  time  when  every  one  seemed  to  be  plot- 
ting against  us. 

"  Pardon  me,  if  I  wound  your  feelings  by  dwelling  on  this 
subject.  Your  conduct  has  made  a  deep  impression  upon  our 
minds,  which  no  length  of  time  can  erase.  Would  that  all 
mankind  were  like  thee  !  " 

After  a  short  residence  in  Dublin,  and  a  tour  to  the 
Lakes  of  Killarney,  the  Shelleys  returned  to  London  in 
May,  1813,  and  remained  there  until  after  the  confine- 
ment of  Mrs.  Shelley,  who,  early  in  the  summer,  gave 
birth  to  a  daughter,  afterwards  christened  Ianthe  Eliza. 

Mr.  Peacock,  one  of  the  poet's  most  intimate  friends 


POETICAL    LABORS    AND    DOMESTIC    SORROWS.      71 

at  that  time,  has  recently  given  in  Fraser's  Magazine  an 
interesting  account  of  Shelley's  way  of  pleasing  his  in- 
fant. 

"  He  was  extremely  fond  of  his  child,"  says  Mr.  Pea- 
cock, "  and  would  walk  up  and  down  a  room  with  it  in 
his  arms  for  a  long  time  together,  singing  to  it  a  mo- 
notonous melody  of  his  own  making,  which  ran  on  the 
repetition  of  a  word  of  his  own  coining.  His  song  was 
—  '  Yahmani,  yahmani,  yahmani,  yahmani  ! '  It  did  not 
please  me,  but,  what  was  more  important,  it  pleased  the 
child,  and  lulled  it  when  it  was  fretful.  Shelley  was  ex- 
tremely fond  of  his  children.  He  was  preeminently  an 
affectionate  father.  But  to  this  first-born  there  were  ac- 
companiments which  did  not  please  him.  The  child  had 
a  wet-nurse  whom  he  did  not  like,  and  was  much  looked 
after  by  his  wife's  sister,  whom  he  intensely  disliked. 
I  have  often  thought  that,  if  Harriet  had  nursed  her  own 
child,  and  i£  this  sister  had  not  lived  with  them,  the  link 
of  their  married  love  would  not  have  been  so  readily 
broken." 

Shelley  was  now  in  severe  pecuniary  distress ;  for  he 
received  nothing  from  his  father  beyond  the  stipulated 
200/.  a  year,  and  he  had  not  found  it  possible  to  raise 
money  on  his  future  expectations.  For  the  purpose  of 
economy  he  retired  to  a  small  cottage  in  Berkshire,  which 
bore  the  lofty  title  of  High  Elms,  and  where,  in  the  so- 
ciety of  a  few  friends,  varied  by  frequent  visits  to  London, 
some  months  glided  by  happily  and  quietly. 

During  this  summer,  Shelley  paid  a  visit  to  Field  Place, 
and  his  reception  there  is  graphically  told  by  a  friend  of 


72  SHELLEY     MEMORIALS. 

the  family  (Captain  Kennedy),  who  was  then  staying  in 
the  house :  — 

"  At  this  time  I  had  not  seen  Shelley ;  but  the  servants, 
especially  the  old  butler,  Laker,  had  spoken  of  him  to  me. 
He  seemed  to  have  won  the  hearts  of  the  whole  house- 
hold. Mrs.  Shelley  often  spoke  to  me  of  her  son  ;  her 
heart  yearned  after  him  with  all  the  fondness  of  a  mother's 
love.  It  was  during  the  absence  of  his  father  and  the 
three  youngest  children  that  the  natural  desire  of  a 
mother  to  see  her  son  induced  her  to  propose  that  he 
should  pay  her  a  short  visit.  At  this  time  he  resided 
somewhere  in  the  country  with  his  first  wife  and  their 
only  child,  Ianthe.  He  walked  from  his  house  until  within 
a  few  miles  of  Field  Place,  when  a  farmer  gave  him  a 
seat  in  his  travelling  cart.  As  he  passed  along,  the  far- 
mer, ignorant  of  the  quality  of  his  companion,  amused 
Bysshe  with  descriptions  of  the  country  and  its  inhabi- 
tants. When  Field  Place  came  in  sight,  he  told  whose 
seat  it  was ;  and,  as  the  most  remarkable  incident  con- 
nected with  the  family,  that  young  Master  Shelley  seldom 
went  to  church.  He  arrived  at  Field  Place  exceedingly 
fatigued.  I  came  there  the  following  morning  to  meet 
him.  I  found  him  with  his  mother  and  his  two  elder 
sisters  in  a  small  room  off  the  drawing-room,  which  they 
had  named  Confusion  Hall. 

"  He  received  me  with  frankness  and  kindliness,  as  if 
he  had  known  me  from  childhood,  and  at  once  won  my 
heart.  I  fancy  I  see  him  now,  as  he  sat  by  the  window, 
and  hear  his  voice,  the  tones  of  which  impressed  me  with 
his    sincerity   and    simplicity.     His    resemblance    to  his 


POETICAL    LABORS    AND    DOMESTIC    SORROWS.     73 

sister  Elizabeth  was  as  striking  as  if  they  had  been 
twins.  His  eyes  were  most  expressive,  his  complexion* 
beautifully  fair,  his  features  exquisitely  fine  ;  his  hair  was 
dark,  and  no  peculiar  attention  to  its  arrangement  was 
manifest.  In  person  he  was  slender  and  gentlemanlike, 
but  inclined  to  stoop ;  his  gait  was  decidedly  not  military. 
The  general  appearance  indicated  great  delicacy  of  con- 
stitution. One  would  at  once  pronounce  of  him  that  he 
was  something  different  from  other  men.  There  was  an 
earnestness  in  his  manner,  and  such  perfect  gentleness  of 
breeding,  and  freedom  from  everything  artificial,  as 
charmed  every  one.  I  never  met  a  man  who  so  imme- 
diately won  upon  me. 

"  The  generosity  of  his  disposition  and  utter  unself- 
ishness imposed  upon  him  the  necessity  of  strict  self-denial 
in  personal  comforts.  Consequently,  he  was  obliged  to 
be  most  economical  in  his  dress.  He  one  day  asked  us 
how  we  liked  his  coat,  the  only  one  he  had  brought  with 
him.  We  said  it  was  very  nice;  it  looked  as  if  new. 
i  Well,'  said  he,  '  it  is  an  old  black  coat  which  I  have 
had  done  up,  and  smartened  with  metal  buttons  and  a  vel- 
vet collar.' 

"  As  it  was  not  desirable  that  Bysshe's  presence  in  the 
country  should  be  known,  we  arranged  that,  walking  out, 
he  should  wear  my  scarlet  uniform,  and  that  I  should 
assume  his  outer  garments.  So  he  donned  the  soldier's 
dress,  and  sallied  forth.  His  head  was  so  remarkably 
small  that,  though  mine  be  not  large,  the  cap  came  down 
over  his  eyes,  the  peak  resting  on  his  nose,  and  it  had  to 
be  stuffed  before  it  would  fit  him.     His  hat  just  stuck  on 

4 


74  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

the  crown  of  my  head.  He  certainly  looked  like  any- 
thing but  a  soldier.  The  metamorphosis  was  very  amus- 
ing ;  he  enjoyed  it  much,  and  made  himself  perfectly  at 
home  in  his  unwonted  garb.  We  gave  him  the  name  of 
Captain  Jones,  under  which  name  we  used  to  talk  of  him 
after  his  departure  ;  but,  with  all  our  care,  Bysshe's  visit 
could  not  be  kept  a  secret. 

"  I  chanced  to  mention  the  name  of  Sir  James  Macin- 
tosh, of  whom  he  expressed  the  highest  admiration.  He 
told  me  Sir  James  was  intimate  with  Godwin,  to  whom, 
he  said,  he  owed  everything;  from  whose  book,  Political 
Justice,  he  had  derived  all  that  was  valuable  in  knowledge 
and  virtue.  He  discoursed  with  eloquence  and  enthusi- 
asm ;  but  his  views  seemed  to  me  exquisitely  metaphysi- 
cal, and  by  no  means  clear,  precise,  or  decided.  He  told 
me  that  he  had  already  read  the  Bible  four  times.  He 
was  then  only  twenty  years  old.*  He  spoke  of  the  Su- 
preme Being  as  of  infinite  mercy  and  benevolence.  He 
disclosed  no  fixed  views  of  spiritual  things  ;  all  seemed 
wild  and  fanciful.  He  said  that  he  once  thought  the 
surrounding  atmosphere  was  peopled  with  the  spirits  of 
the  departed.  He  reasoned  and  spoke  as  a  perfect  gen- 
tleman, and  treated  my  arguments,  boy  as  I  was  (I  had 
lately  completed  my  sixteenth  year),  with  as  much  con- 
sideration and  respect  as  if  I  had  been  his  equal  in  ability 
and  attainments. 

"  Shelley  was  one  of  the  most  sensitive  of  human  be- 
ings ;  he  had  a  horror  of  taking  life,  and  looked  upon  it 

*  As  this  was  in  the  summer  of  1813,  Shelley  must  have  been 
nearly,  if  not  quite,  twenty -one.  —  Ed. 


POETICAL    LABORS    AND    DOMESTIC    SORROWS.      75 

as  a  crime.  He  read  poetry  with  great  emphasis  and 
solemnity ;  one  evening  he  read  aloud  to  us  a  translation 
of  one  of  Goethe's  poems,  and  at  this  day  I  think  I  hear 
him.  In  music  he  seemed  to  delight,  as  a  medium  of  as- 
sociation ;  the  tunes  which  had  been  favorites  in  boyhood 
charmed  him.  There  was  one,  which  he  played  several 
times  on  the  piano  with  one  hand,  which  seemed  to  absorb 
him ;  it  was  an  exceedingly  simple  air,  which,  I  under- 
stand, his  earliest  love  (Harriet  Grove)  was  wont  to  play 
for  him.  He  soon  left  us,  and  I  never  saw  him  after- 
wards ;  but  I  can  never  forget  him.  It  was  his  last  visit 
to  Field  Place.     He  was  an  amiable,  gentle  being." 

Towards  the  close  of  1813,  estrangements,  which  for 
some  time  had  been  slowly  growing  between  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Shelley  came  to  a  crisis.  Separation  ensued;  and 
Mrs.  Shelley  returned  to  her  father's  house.  Here  she 
gave  birth  to  her  second  child,  —  a  son,  who  died  in 
1826. 

The  occurrences  of  this  painful  epoch  in  Shelley's  life, 
and  of  the  causes  which  led  to  them,  I  am  spared  from 
relating.  In  Mary  Shelley's  own  words  :  —  "  This  is 
not  the  time  to  relate  the  truth  ;  and  I  should  reject  any 
coloring  of  the  truth.  No  account  of  these  events  has 
ever  been  given  at  all  approaching  reality  in  their  de- 
tails, either  as  regards  himself  or  others ;  nor  shall  I 
further  allude  to  them  than  to  remark  that  the  errors  of 
action  committed  by  a  man  as  noble  and  generous  as 
Shelley,  may,  as  far  as  he  only  is  concerned,  be  fearlessly 
avowed  by  those  who  loved  him,  in  the  firm  conviction 
that,  were  they  judged  impartially,  his  character  would 


76  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

stand  in  fairer  and  brighter  light  than  that  of  any  con- 
temporary." 

Of  those  remaining  who  were  intimate  with  Shelley 
at  this  time,  each  has  given  us  a  different  version  of  this 
sad  event,  colored  by  his  own  views  and  personal  feel- 
ings. Evidently  Shelley  confided  to  none  of  these 
friends.  We,  who  bear  his  name,  and  are  of  his  family, 
have  in  our  possession  papers  written  by  his  own  hand, 
which  in  after  years  may  make  the  story  of  his  life  com- 
plete, and  which  few  now  living,  except  Shelley's  own 
children,  have  ever  perused. 

One  mistake  which  has  gone  forth  to  the  world,  we 
feel  ourselves  called  upon  positively  to  contradict. 

Harriet's  death  has  sometimes  been  ascribed  to  Shel- 
ley. This  is  entirely  false.  There  was  no  immediate 
connection  whatever  between  her  tragic  end  and  any 
conduct  on  the  part  of  her  husband.  It  is  true,  however, 
that  it  was  a  permanent  source  of  the  deepest  sorrow  to 
him  ;  for  never  during  all  his  after  life  did  the  dark 
shade  depart  which  had  fallen  on  his  gentle  and  sensitive 
nature  from  the  self-sought  grave  of  the  companion  of  his 
early  youth. 


ENGLAND    AND    SWITZERLAND.  77 


CHAPTER   VII. 

ENGLAND      AND      SWITZERLAND  :     JUDGMENT     OF      THE 
LORD    CHANCELLOR  :    THE    "  REVOLT    OF    ISLAM." 

To  the  family  of  Godwin,  Shelley  had,  from  the  period 
of  his  self-introduction  at  Keswick,  been  an  object  of 
interest ;  and  the  acquaintanceship  which  had  sprung  up 
between  them  during  the  poet's  occasional  visits  to  Lon- 
don had  grown  into  a  cordial  friendship.  It  was  in  the 
society  and  sympathy  of  the  Godwins  that  Shelley  sought 
and  found  some  relief  in  his  present  sorrow.  He  was 
still  extremely  young.  His  anguish,  his  isolation,  his 
difference  from  other  men,  his  gifts  of  genius  and  elo- 
quent enthusiasm,  made  a  deep  impression  on  Godwin's 
daughter  Mary,  now  a  girl  of  sixteen,  who  had  been  ac- 
customed to  hear  Shelley  spoken  of  as  something  rare 
and  strange.  To  her,  as  they  met  one  eventful  day  in 
St.  Pancras  Churchyard,  by  her  mother's  grave,  Bysshe, 
in  burning  words,  poured  forth  the  tale  of  his  wild  past  — 
how  he  had  suffered,  how  he  had  been  misled,  and  how, 
if  supported  by  her  love,  he  hoped  in  future  years  to  en- 
roll his  name  with  the  wise  and  good  who  had  done  battle 
for  their  fellow-men,  and  been  true  through  all  adverse 
storms  to  the  cause  of  humanity. 


78  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

Unhesitatingly,  she  placed  her  hand  in  his,  and  linked 
her  fortune  with  his  own  ;  and  most  truthfully,  as  the 
remaining  portions  of  these  Memorials  will  prove,  was 
the  pledge  of  both  redeemed. 

The  theories  in  which  the  daughter  of  the  authors  of 
Political  Justice  and  of  the  Rights  of  Woman  had  been 
educated,  spared  her  from  any  conflict  between  her  duty 
and  her  affection.  For  she  was  the  child  of  parents 
whose  writings  had  had  for  their  object  to  prove  that 
marriage  was  one  among  the  many  institutions  which  a 
new  era  in  the  history  of  mankind  was  about  to  sweep 
away.  By  her  father,  whom  she  loved  —  by  the  writings 
of  her  mother,  whom  she  had  been  taught  to  venerate  — 
these  doctrines  had  been  rendered  familiar  to  her  mind. 
It  was,  therefore,  natural  that  she  should  listen  to  the 
dictates  of  her  own  heart,  and  willingly  unite  her  fate 
with  one  who  was  so  worthy  of  her  love. 

The  short  peace  of  1814  having  opened  the  Continent, 
they  went  abroad,  and,  having  visited  some  of  the  most 
magnificent  scenes  of  Switzerland,  returned  to  England 
from  Lucerne  by  the  Reuss  and  the  Rhine.  This  river- 
navigation  enchanted  Shelley.  He  was  never  so  happy 
as  when  he  was  in  a  boat,  and,  "  in  his  favorite  poem  of 
Thalaba"  as  Mrs.  Shelley  records  in  her  notes  to  her 
husband's  works,  "  his  imagination  had  been  excited  by  a 
description  of  such  a  voyage."  His  pleasure  must  there- 
fore have  been  keen. 

On  the  death  of  Sir  Bysshe,  in  January,  1815, 
Shelley's  father  inherited  the  title  and  the  accumulated 
wealth.     With  respect  to  this  event,  Shelley  records,  in 


ENGLAND    AND    SWITZERLAND.  79 

a  journal  which  he  kept :  —  "  The  will  has  been  opened, 
and  I  am  referred  to  Whitton "  (Sir  Timothy's  legal 
adviser).  "  My  father  would  not  allow  me  to  enter 
Field  Place."  Shelley  Sidney  —  a  half-brother  of  Sir 
Timothy  —  expressed  his  opinion  that  the  will  was  a 
most  extraordinary  one.  The  death  of  the  old  baronet, 
however,  placed  the  young  poet  in  a  better  pecuniary  po- 
sition than  he  had  ever  yet  occupied.  Being  now  the 
direct  heir  to  the  estates,  he  could  the  more  readily  raise 
money  for  his  immediate  necessities ;  besides  which,  his 
father,  yielding  to  the  pressure  of  advice,  allowed  him 
1,000/.  a  year.  He  was  thus  relieved  from  the  painful 
stringency  of  his  former  condition. 

In  the  winter  months,  at  the  commencement  of  this 
year,  Shelley  walked  a  hospital,  for  the  purpose  of 
acquiring  some  slight  knowledge  of  surgery,  which  might 
enable  him  to  alleviate  the  sufferings  of  the  poor.  Yet, 
at  the  very  time  he  subjected  himself  to  these  painful  and 
often  harrowing  experiences,  he  was  himself  in  the  most 
delicate  state  of  health.  In  the  spring  he  was  said  by  an 
eminent  physician  to  be  in  a  rapid  consumption ;  and  so 
far  had  the  malady  progressed  that  abscesses  were  formed 
on  his  lungs.  His  fragile  nature  was  shaken  by  frequent 
paroxysms  of  pain,  during  which  he  was  often  obliged  to 
lie  on  the  ground,  or  to  have  recourse  to  the  perilous 
sedative  of  laudanum.  He  was  at  this  time  living  in 
London.  The  symptoms  of  pulmonary  disorder  subse- 
quently left  him  with  a  suddenness  and  completeness 
which  seem  to  be  unaccountable.  A  thorough  change 
in  his  system  supervened,  and  he  was  never  again  threat- 


80  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

ened  with  consumption ;  though  he  was  at  no  time 
healthy,  or  free  from  the  assaults  of  pain.  This  change, 
however,  did  not  take  place  until  some  few  years  after 
the  present  date. 

The  summer  of  1815  was  partly  occupied  by  a  tour 
along  the  southern  coast  of  Devonshire  and  a  visit  to 
Clifton.  On  the  completion  of  these  trips,  Shelley 
rented  a  house  on  Bishopsgate  Heath,  on  the  borders 
of  Windsor  Forest,  the  air  of  which  neighborhood  did 
his  health  considerable  service.  The  conclusion  of  the 
summer  was  very  fine,  and  all  things  contributed  to 
afford  the  worn  spirits  of  Bysshe  a  brief  interspace  of 
happiness  and  calm.  He  visited  the  source  of  the 
Thames,  together  with  a  few  friends,  and  on  this  occa- 
sion again  indulged  in  the  pleasure  of  boating  —  that 
pleasure  which  was  in  the  end  to  lure  him  to  his  death. 
The  party  proceeded  from  Windsor  to  Cricklade  in  a 
wherry.  "  His  beautiful  stanzas  in  the  churchyard  of 
Lechlade,"  says  Mrs.  Shelley,  in  her  collected  edition 
of  the  poems,  "  were  .written  on  that  occasion.  Alastor 
was  composed  on  his  return.  He  spent  his  days  under 
the  oak  shades  of  Windsor  Great  Park ;  and  the  mag- 
nificent woodland  was  a  fitting  study  to  inspire  the 
various  descriptions  of  forest  scenery  we  find  in  the 
poem."  This  was  the  first  production  in  verse  which 
Shelley  gave  openly  to  the  world. 

In  1816,  he  again  visited  Switzerland,  and  made  the 
acquaintance  of  Lord  Byron,  for  the  first  time,  at  Seche- 
ron's  hotel  at  Geneva,  where  the  former  was  staying 
when  the  latter  arrived  there.     Both  poets  being  ardent 


ENGLAND    AND    SWITZERLAND.  81 

lovers  of  boating,  they  joined  in  the  purchase  of  a  small 
craft,  in  which,  evening  after  evening,  they  made  sailing 
excursions  on  the  lake  of  Geneva,  accompanied  by  Sig- 
nor  Polidori,  a  friend  of  Byron,  though  by  no  means  of 
Shelley,  who  disliked  him  on  account  of  the  morbid 
vanity  he  was  constantly  exhibiting.  Bysshe  afterwards 
rented  a  house  on  the  banks  of  the  lake,  and  passed 
many  days  alone  in  the  boat,  reading  or  meditating,  and 
resigning  himself  to  the  summer  influences  of  winds  and 
waters.  On  one  occasion,  when  Shelley  and  Byron 
were  sailing  from  Meillerie  to  St.  Gringoux,  a  storm  came 
on  ;  the  vessel  was  injured,  and  shipped  a  good  deal  of 
water ;  and,  to  make  matters  stiJl  worse,  one  of  the  boat- 
men stupidly  mismanaged  the  sail.  The  loss  of  the  boat 
seemed  inevitable  ;  and  Shelley,  being  unable  to  swim, 
made  up  his  mind  that  he  should  have  to  meet  that 
death  for  which  he  was  in  fact  only  reserved  until  a 
later  period.  But  the  vessel  righted,  and  got  safely  to 
the  shore. 

Mrs.  Shelley  has  recorded  that  her  husband's  lines 
on  Mont  Blanc,  and  his  Hymn  to  Intellectual  Beauty, 
were  written  at  this  time.  She  thinks,  however,  that 
the  genius  of  Shelley  was  in  some  measure  checked  by 
his  association  with  Byron,  "whose  nature  was  utterly 
dissimilar  to  his  own ; "  but  that,  at  the  same  time, 
Shelley  had  a  corresponding  influence  on  Byron,  as 
evinced  in  the  abstractions  of  Childe  Harold,  then  flow- 
ing from  its  author's  pen. 

The  period  was,  indeed,  rich  in  the  production  of 
works  of  genius.     The  famous  "  Monk  "  Lewis,  as  he  is 

4* 


82  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

called,  joined  the  society  of  the  two  English  poets,  and 
during  some  rainy  weather  he  set  them  talking  about 
ghost  stories.  Each  was  to  write  one  of  these  fasci- 
nating toys  of  the  imagination ;  and  Mrs.  Shelley's 
extraordinary  romance  of  Frankenstein  was  the  result, 
as  far  as  herself  was  concerned,  and  indeed  the  only  one 
of  the  proposed  narratives  which  was  completed.  One 
evening,  the  recital  by  Lord  Byron  of  the  commence- 
ment of  Coleridge's  spectral  poem,  Christabel,  conjured 
up  in  Shelley's  mind,  by  an  association  of  ideas,  a  vision 
of  a  beautiful  woman  with  four  eyes,  two  of  which  were 
glancing  at  him  from  out  of  her  breast ;  and  he  rushed 
from  the  room  in  an  agony  of  horror. 

On  the  30th  of  December,  1816  (after  his  return  to 
England),  Shelley's  second  marriage  took  place.  She 
who  was  thenceforward  the  companion  of  his  existence 
has  left  us  some  of  the  most  interesting  particulars 
which  we  possess  of  his  brief  remnant  of  life,  and  of 
his  lamentable  end.  Her  influence  over  him  was  of  an 
important  kind.  His  anxiety  to  aid  the  intelligence 
of  the  less  instructed,  and  his  efforts  to  promote  the 
well-being  of  the  poorer  classes  of  his  fellow-creatures, 
were  as  vivid  and  as  strenuous  as  before ;  yet  his  mind, 
by  gradually  bending  to  milder  influences,  divested  itself 
of  much  of  that  hostile  bitterness  of  thought  and  ex- 
pression with  which  he  had  hitherto  attacked  those 
political  and  social  abuses  which  had  seemed  to  him  to 
be  the  principal  obstacles  to  the  progressive  development 
of  mankind. 

His  pecuniary  struggles,  his  father's  persevering  anger, 


ENGLAND    AND    SWITZERLAND.  83 

and  the  calumnies  of  his  unscrupulous  enemies,  had  no 
longer  the  same  power  to  embitter  his  existence,  and  to 
rouse  his  darker  passions.  From  them  he  had  now  a 
sure  refuge.  Evil  might  be  without ;  but  by  his  hearth 
were  sympathy,  and  encouragement,  and  love. 

They  had  fixed  upon  the  neighborhood  of  Marlow,  in 
Buckinghamshire,  for  their  winter  quarters.  While  Shel- 
ley was  looking  out  in  this  locality  for  a  suitable  resi- 
dence, he  received  the  following  letter  to  aid  him  in  his 
researches :  — 

"  In  the  choice  of  a  residence,  dear  Shelley,  pray  do  not  be 
too  quick,  or  attach  yourself  too  much  to  one  spot.  A  house 
with  a  lawn,  near  a  river  or  lake,  noble  trees  or  divine  moun- 
tains —  that  should  be  our  little  mouse-hole  to  retire  to ;  but 
never  mind  this.  Give  me  a  garden,  and  I  will  thank  my  love 
for  many  favors.  If  you  go  to  London,  you  will  perhaps  try 
to  procure  me  a  good  Livy ;  for  I  wish  very  much  to  read  it. 
I  must  be  more  industrious,  especially  in  learning  Latin,  which 
I  neglected  shamefully  last  summer  at  intervals ;  and  those 

periods  of  not  reading  at  all  put  me  back  very  far 

Adieu !  Love  me  tenderly,  and  think  of  me  with  affection 
whenever  anything  pleases  you  greatly." 

On  the  22d  of  March,  Shelley  wrote  as  follows  to 
Godwin :  — 

"My  dear  Godwin, 

"  It  was  spring  when  I  wrote  to  you,  and  winter  when 
your  answer  arrived.  But  the  frost  is  very  transitory ;  every 
bud  is  ready  to  burst  into  leaf.  It  is  a  nice  distinction  you 
make  between  the  development  and  the  complete  expansion 
of  the  leaves.  The  oak  and  the  chestnut,  the  latest  and  the 
earliest  parents  of  foliage,  would  afford  you  a  still  subtler  sub- 


84  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

division,  which  would  enable  you  to  defer  the  visit,  from  which 
we  expect  so  much  delight,  for  six  weeks.  I  hope  we  shall 
really  see  you  before  that  time,  and  that  you  will  allow  the 
chestnut,  or  any  other  important  tree,  as  he  stands  in  the 
foreground,  to  be  considered  as  a  virtual  representation  of  the 
rest. 

"  Will  is  quite  well,  and  very  beautiful.  Mary  unites  with 
me  in  presenting  her  kind  remembrances  to  Mrs.  Godwin,  and 
begs  most  affectionate  love  to  you. 

"  Yours, 

"  P.  B.  Shelley. 

"  Have  you  read  Melincourt  ?    It  would  entertain  you." 

About  this  time,  Shelley  became  acquainted,  at  Leigh 
Hunt's  house,  at  Hampstead,  with  John  Keats,  and  with 
the  brothers  James  and  Horace  Smith.  The  genius  of 
the  former  he  at  once  recognized,  and  celebrated  it,  in  a 
subsequent  year,  in  the  eloquent  poem,  Adonais.  For 
Horace  Smith  Shelley  had  the  most  affectionate  regard 
—  a  regard  fully  deserved  by  that  excellent  and  warm- 
hearted wit. 

But  now  came  one  of  the  greatest  sorrows  which 
Shelley  ever  had  to  encounter.  Up  to  the  time  of  his 
first  wife's  death,  her  children  had  resided  with  her  and 
with  her  father ;  but,  after  that  event,  Shelley  claimed 
them.  Mr.  "Westbrook  refused  to  give  them  up,  and  car- 
ried the  case  into  Chancery,  where  he  filed  a  bill,  assev- 
erating that  the  remaining  parent  of  the  children  was 
unfit  to  have  the  charge  of  them,  on  account  of  the 
alleged  depravity  of  his  religious  and  moral  opinions,  in 
which  he' designed  to  bring  them  up.  The  case  having 
been  argued,  judgment  was   pronounced   by  the   Lord 


JUDGMENT  OF  THE  LORD  CHANCELLOR.     85 

Chancellor  (Eldon),  and  it  was  decreed  that  Shelley 
should  not  be  allowed  to  have  the  custody  of  his  own 
offspring.  He  was  forced,  however,  to  set  aside  200/.  a 
year  for  their  support ;  and  this  sum  was  deducted  by 
Sir  Timothy  from  his  son's  annuity.  The  children  were 
committed  to  the  care  of  a  clergyman  of  the  Church  of 
England,  and  were  of  course  educated  in  those  principles 
which  their  father  looked  on  with  aversion.  The  son,  as 
the  reader  has  already  seen,  died  when  a  youth  ;  the 
daughter  is  still  living. 

As  to  the  monstrous  injustice  of  this  decree,  most  men 
are  now  agreed;  and  no  further  remark  need  be  made 
on  so  repellent  a  subject,  except  an  expression  of  aston- 
ishment that  the  name  of  Dr.  Parr  should  be  found 
among  Shelley's  opponents.  His  testimony  was  given, 
and  quoted  very  frequently,  as  to  the  respectability  of 
the  persons  appointed,  under  Chancery,  as  guardians  of 
the  children. 

The  ensuing  letter  from  the  poet's  legal  adviser,  writ- 
ten before  the  decision  of  the  Lord  Chancellor,  contains 
some  points  of  interest :  — 


"  Gray's  Inn,  5th  Aug.  1817. 
"  My  dear  Sir, 

"  I  enclose  you  the  Master's  report  on  the  subject  of  4he 
children,  which  I  am  sorry  to  say  is  against  you.  I  am  taking 
the  necessary  proceedings  to  bring^the  question  before  the 
Lord  Chancellor,  and  it  will  come  on  for  his  decision  some 
time  next  week,  or,  at  any  rate,  before  he  rises,  which  is  the 
23d  inst.  One  comfort  is,  that  there  could  not  be  a  we  V:er 
case  against  you  than  this  is.     The  only  support  of  Mr.  Ken- 


86  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

dall  *  is  Dr.  Parr,  who  is  himself  open  to  a  great  deal  of  ob- 
servation, and  Avho,  except  as  a  Greek  scholar,  does  not  stand 
high  in  any  one's  opinion. 

"  The  Master,  in  the  first  place,  omits  to  inquire  what  would 
be  a  proper  plan  for  the  education  of  the  children,  though  or- 
dered by  the  Chancellor  to  do  so ;  and  then  he  goes  on  to 
approve  a  proposal  that  Mr.  Kendall  should  stand,  in  all  re- 
spects, loco  parentis,  when  the  Lord  Chancellor  himself  says 
that  he  has  not  yet  made  up  his  mind  as  to  how  far  he  would 
interfere  against  parental  authority. 

"  I  should  think  that  the  plaintiffs  will  find  it  a  difficult 
matter  to  prevail  on  the  Chancellor  to  confirm  this  unnatural 
proposal  of  abandoning  these  infants  to  the  care  of  a  stranger, 
of  whom  nobody  interested  in  the  welfare  of  the  children 
knows  anything, —  who  lives  at  a  considerable  distance  from 
all  the  family, —  who,  from  his  ignorance  of  all  the  family,  can 
have  no  object  but  to  make  the  most  of  the  children  as  a  pecu- 
niary transaction, —  in  short,  who  has  nothing  to  recommend 
him  but  the  affidavit  of  the  venerable  bridegroom,  Dr.  Parr.f 

"  As  I  objected  to  liberties  being  taken  with  your  income, 
you  will  observe  that  the  proposal  is  altered. 

"  Your  faithful  and  obedient  servant, 

"P.    W.    LONGDILL." 

Moved  to  fiery  wrath  by  the  cruel  injustice  which  had 
been  dealt  out  to  him,  Shelley  wrote  a  terrible  curse 
on  the  Lord  Chancellor,  which  Mrs.  Shelley  published 
among  her  husband's  poems.  The  outraged  father  speaks 
grandly  and  fearfully  in  these  lines  :  — 

M  By  thy  most  impious  Hell,  and  all  its  terrors ; 
By  all  the  grief,  the  madness,  and  the  guilt 

*  One  of  the  persons  recommended  as  guardians  for  the  children. 
—Ed. 

t  Dr.  Parr  married,  for  the  second  time,  in  1816,  though  then  in  his 
seventieth  year. —  Ed. 


JUDGMENT    OF    THE    LORD    CHANCELLOR.  87 

Of  thine  impostures,  which  must  be  their  errors, 
That  sand  on  which  thy  crumbling  power  is  built: 
****** 

"  By  all  the  hate  which  checks  a  father's  love, 
By  all  the  scorn  which  kills  a  father's  care; 
By  those  most  impious  hands  that  dared  remove 
Nature's  high  bounds  —  by  thee  —  and  by  despair, — 

"  Yes  !  the  despair  which  bids  a  father  groan, 
And  cry,  '  My  children  are  no  longer  mine: 
The  blood  within  those  veins  may  be  mine  own, 
But,  Tyrant,  their  polluted  souls  are  thine !  ' — 

"  I  curse  thee,  though  I  hate  thee  not.     0  slave ! 
If  thou  could'st  quench  the  earth-consuming  hell 
Of  which  thou  art  a  demon,  on  thy  grave 
This  curse  should  be  a  blessing.     Fare  thee  well!  " 

In  his  Masque  of  Anarchy  (written  in  1819),  Shelley 
has  two  stanzas,  hot  with  scorn  and  sarcasm,  on  the  man 
who  had  robbed  him  of  his  offspring :  — 

"  Next  came  Fraud,  and  he  had  on, 
Like  Lord  Eldon,  an  ermine  gown: 
His  big  tears  (for  he  wept  well) 
Turn'd  to  mill-stones  as  they  fell: 

"  And  the  little  children,  who 
Round  his  feet  play'd  to  and  fro, 
Thinking  every  tear  a  gem, 
Had  their  brains  knocked  out  by  them." 

Towards  the  end  of  1817,  Shelley  was  obliged,  owing 
to  pecuniary  difficulties,  to  stay  for  some  time  at  the 
house  of  Leigh  Hunt,  who  had  by  that  time  removed  to 
Lisson  Grove.     He  had  been  made  answerable  for  cer- 


88  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

tain  liabilities  incurred  by  his  first  wife,  and  the  creditors 
pressed  him  severely  ;  though  until  the  demands  were 
urged  on  him,  he  had  no  knowledge  that  any  such  claims 
existed ;  nor  had  he  now  an  opportunity  of  verifying 
their  exactness.  He  even  ran  some  danger  of  arrest ; 
but  matters  were  at  length  settled.  In  the  mean  while, 
Mrs.  Shelley  resided  at  Marlow,  in  company  with  her 
children,  and  with  a  little  daughter  of  Lord  Byron,  called 
Allegra,  and  sometimes  Alba.  Shelley  returned  to  Mar- 
low  in  the  autumn. 

On  December  7th,  he  thus  addressed  Godwin :  — 

"Marlow,  December  7th,  1817. 
"  My  dear  Godwin, 

"  To  begin  with  the  subject  of  most  immediate  interest : 
close  with  Richardson ;  and  when  I  say  this,  what  relief  should 
I  not  feel  from  a  thousand  distressing  emotions,  if  I  could  be- 
lieve that  he  was  in  earnest  in  his  offer !  I  have  not  heard 
from  Longdill,  though  I  wish  earnestly  for  information. 

"  My  health  has  been  materially  worse.  My  feelings  at 
intervals  are  of  a  deadly  and  torpid  kind,  or  awakened  to 
a  state  of  such  unnatural  and  keen  excitement,  that,  only  to 
instance  the  organ  of  sight,  I  find  the  very  blades  of  grass 
and  the  boughs  of  distant  trees  present  themselves  to  me  with 
microscopical  distinctness.  Towards  evening  I  sink  into  a 
state  of  lethargy  and  inanimation,  and  often  remain  for  hours 
on  the  sofa,  between  sleep  and  waking,  a  prey  to  the  most 
painful  irritability  of  thought.  Such,  with  little  intermission, 
is  my  condition.  The  hours  devoted  to  study  are  selected  with 
vigilant  caution  from  among  these  periods  of  endurance.  It 
is  not  for  this  that  I  think  of  travelling  to  Italy,  even  if  I  knew 
that  Italy  would  relieve  me.  But  I  have  experienced  a  deci- 
sive pulmonary  attack ;  and,  although  at  present  it  has  passed 
away  without  any  very  considerable  vestige  of  its  existence,  yet 


JUDGMENT  OF  THE  LORD  CHANCELLOR.     89 

this  symptom  sufficiently  shows  the  true  nature  of  my  disease 
to  be  consumption.  It  is  to  my  advantage  that  this  malady  is 
in  its  nature  slow,  and,  if  one  is  sufficiently  alive  to  its  ad- 
vances, is  susceptible  of  cure  from  a  warm  climate.  In  the 
event  of  its  assuming  any  decided  shape,  it  would  be  my  duty 
to  go  to  Italy  without  delay  ;  and  it  is  only  when  that  measure 
becomes  an  indispensable  duty  that,  contrary  to  both  Mary's 
feelings  and  to  mine,  as  they  regard  you,  I  shall  go  to  Italy. 
I  need  not  remind  you  (besides  the  mere  pain  endured  by  the 
survivors)  of  the  train  of  evil  consequences  which  my  death 
would  cause  to  ensue.  I  am  thus  circumstantial  and  explicit, 
because  you  seem  to  have  misunderstood  me.  It  is  not  health, 
but  life,  that  I  should  seek  in  Italy ;  and  that,  not  for  my  own 
sake  —  I  feel  that  I  am  capable  of  trampling  on  all  such  weak- 
ness —  but  for  the  sake  of  those  to  whom  my  life  may  be  a 
source  of  happiness,  utility,  security,  and  honor,  and  to  some 
of  whom  my  death  might  be  all  that  is  the  reverse. 

"  I  ought  to  say,  I  cannot  persevere  in  the  meat  diet.  What 
you  say  of  Malthus  fills  me,  as  far  as  my  intellect  is  concerned, 
with  life  and  strength.  I  believe  that  I  have  a  most  anxious 
desire  that  the  time  should  quickly  come  that,  even  so  far  as 
you  are  personally  concerned,  you  should  be  tranquil  and  in- 
dependent. But  when  I  consider  the  intellectual  lustre  with 
which  you  clothe  this  world,  and  how  much  the  last  generation 
of  mankind  may  be  benefited  by  that  light,  flowing  forth  with- 
out the  intervention  of  one  shadow,  I  am  elevated  above  all 
thoughts  which  tend  to  you  or  myself  as  an  individual,  and 
become,  by  sympathy,  part  of  those  distant  and  innumerable 
minds  to  whom  your  writings  must  be  present. 

"  I  meant  to  have  written  to  you  about  Mandeville  *  solely ; 
but  I  was  so  irritable  and  weak  that  I  could  not  write,  although 
I  thought  I  had  much  to  say.  I  have  read  Mandeville,  but  I 
must  read  it  again  soon,  for  the  interest  is  of  that  irresistible 
and  overwhelming  kind,  that  the  mind,  in  its  influence,  is  like 
a  cloud  borne  on  by  an  impetuous  wind  —  like  one  breath- 

*  Godwin's  novel,  so  called.  —  Ed. 


90  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

lessly  carried  forward,  who  has  no  time  to  pause,  or  observe 
the  causes  of  his  career.  I  think  the  power  of  Mandeville  is 
inferior  to  nothing  you  have  done ;  and,  were  it  not  for  the 
character  of  Falkland,*  no  instance  in  which  you  have  ex- 
erted that  power  of  creation,  which  you  possess  beyond  all 
contemporary  writers,  might  compare  with  it.  Falkland  is 
still  alone  ;  power  is,  in  Falkland,  not,  as  in  Mandeville,  tu- 
mult hurried  onward  by  the  tempest,  but  tranquillity  standing 
unshaken  amid  its  fiercest  rage.  But  Caleb  Williams  never 
shakes  the  deepest  soul  like  Mandeville.  It  must  be  said  of 
the  latter,  you  rule  with  a  rod  of  iron.  The  picture  is  never 
bright ;  and  we  wonder  whence  you  drew  the  darkness  with 
which  its  shades  are  deepened,  until  the  epithet  of  tenfold 
might  almost  cease  to  be  a  metaphor.  The  noun  smorjia 
touches  some  cord  within  us  with  such  a  cold  and  jarring 
power,  that  I  started,  and  for  some  time  could  scarce  believe 
but  that  I  was  Mandeville,  and  that  this  hideous  grin  was 
stamped  upon  my  own  face.  In  style  and  strength  of  expres- 
sion, Mandeville  is  wonderfully  great,  and  the  energy  and  the 
sweetness  of  the  sentiments  scarcely  to  be  equalled.  Clifford's 
character,  as  mere  beauty,  is  a  divine  and  soothing  contrast ; 
and  I  do  not  think  —  if,  perhaps,  I  except  (and  I  know  not  if 
I  ought  to  do  so)  the  speech  of  Agathon  in  the  Symposium  of 
Plato  —  that  there  ever  was  produced  a  moral  discourse  more 
characteristic  of  all  that  is  admirable  and  lovely  in  human 
nature,  —  more  lovely  and  admirable  in  itself,  —  than  that  of 
Henrietta  to  Mandeville,  as  he  is  recovering  from  madness. 
Shall  I  say  that,  when  I  discovered  that  she  was  pleading  all 
this  time  sweetly  for  her  lover,  and  when  at  last  she  weakly 
abandoned  poor  Mandeville,  I  felt  an  involuntary,  and,  per- 
haps, an  unreasonable  pang.?     Adieu ! 

"  Always  most  affectionately  yours, 

"P.  S." 

During  the  summer  and  autumn  of  1817,  Shelley  had 
*  In  the  novel  of  Caleb  Williams.  —  Ed. 


REVOLT    OF    ISLAM.  91 

written  the  Revolt  of  Islam  —  a  poem  which  was  origi- 
nally put  forth  under  the  title  of  Laon  and  Cythna  ;  or, 
the  Revolution  of  ilit  Golden  City :  a  Vision  of  the  Nine- 
teenth Century.  Mr.  Oilier  (from  whose  house  proceeded 
the  first  volume  of  Keats)  was  the  chief  publisher ;  and 
some  copies  of  the  poem,  with  the  original  name,  were 
issued  a  little  before  Christmas.  Some  apprehension,  on 
the  score  of  the  bold  doctrines  advocated  in  its  pages, 
induced  Mr.  Oilier  to  arrest  the  progress  of  the  work  for 
a  while,  with  a  view  to  obtaining  some  modification  of 
particular  parts.  Hereupon  Shelley  wrote  to  his  pub- 
lisher a  letter,  which  is  a  remarkable  specimen  of  the 
courage  with  which  he  defied  conventional  opinions  :  — 

"Marlow,  December  11th,  1817. 
"  Dear  Sir, 

"  It  is  to  be  regretted  that  you  did  not  consult  your  own 
safety  and  advantage  (if  you  consider  it  connected  with  the 
non-publication  of  my  book)  before  your  declining  the  publi- 
cation, after  having  accepted  it,  would  have  operated  to  so 
extensive  and  serious  an  injury  to  my  views  as  now.  The 
instances  of  abuse  and  menace,  which  you  cite,  were  such  as 
you  expected,  and  were,  as  I  conceived,  prepared  for.  If  not, 
it  would  have  been  just  to  me  to  have  given  them  their  due 
weight  and  consideration  before.  You  foresaw,  you  foreknew, 
all  that  these  people  would  say.  You  do  your  best  to  condemn 
my  book  before  it  is  given  forth,  because  you  publish  it,  and 
then  withdraw ;  so  that  no  other  bookseller  will  publish  it,  be- 
cause one  has  already  rejected  it.  You  must  be  aware  of  the 
great  injury  which  you  prepare  for  me.  If  I  had  never  con- 
sulted your  advantage,  my  book  would  have  had  a  fair  hear- 
ing. But  now  it  is  first  published,  and  then  the  publisher,  as 
if  the  author  had  deceived  him  as  to  the  contents  of  the  work 
—  and  as  if  the  inevitable  consequence  of  its  publication  would 


92  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

be  ignominy  and  punishment  —  and  as  if  none  should  dare  to 
touch  it  or  look  at  it  —  retracts,  at  a  period  when  nothing  but 
the  most  extraordinary  and  unforeseen  circumstances  can  jus- 
tify his  retraction. 

"  I  beseech  you  to  reconsider  the  matter,  for  your  sake  no  less 
than  for  my  own.  Assume  the  high  and  the  secure  ground  of 
courage.  The  people  who  visit  your  shop,  and  the  wretched 
bigot  who  gave  his  worthless  custom  to  some  other  bookseller, 
are  not  the  public.  The  public  respect  talent ;  and  a  large 
portion  of  them  are  already  undeceived,  with  regard  to  the 
prejudices  which  my  book  attacks.  You  would  lose  some  cus- 
tomers, but  you  would  gain  others.  Your  trade  would  be 
diverted  into  a  channel  more  consistent  with  your  own  prin- 
ciples. Not  to  say  that  a  publisher  is  in  no  wise  pledged  to  all 
the  opinions  of  his  publications,  or  to  any;  and  that  he  may 
enter  his  protest  with  each  copy  sold,  either  against  the  truth 
or  the  discretion  of  the  principles  of  the  books  he  sells.  But 
there  is  a  much  more  important  consideration  in  the  case.  You 
are,  and  have  been  to  a  certain  extent,  the  publisher.  I  don't 
believe  that,  if  the  book  was  quietly  and  regularly  published, 
the  Government  would  touch  anything  of  a  character  so  re- 
fined, and  so  remote  from  the  conceptions  of  the  vulgar.  They 
would  hesitate  before  they  invaded  a  member  of  the  higher 
circles  of  the  republic  of  letters.  But,  if  they  see  us  tremble, 
they  will  make  no  distinctions ;  they  will  feel  their  strength. 
You  might  bring  the  arm  of  the  law  down  on  us,  by  flinching 
now.  Directly  these  scoundrels  see  that  people  are  afraid  of 
them,  they  seize  upon  them,  and  hold  them  up  to  mankind  as 
criminals  already  convicted  by  their  own  fears.  You  lay 
yourself  prostrate,  and  they  trample  on  you.  How  glad  they 
would  be  to  seize  on  any  connection  of  Hunt's,  by  this  most 
powerful  of  all  their  arms  —  the  terrors  and  self-condemnation 
of  their  victim.  Read  all  the  ex  officio  cases,  and  see  what 
reward  booksellers  and  printers  have  received  for  their  sub- 
mission. 

"  If,  contrary  to  common  sense  and  justice,  you  resolve  to 


REVOLT    OF    ISLAM.  93 

give  me  up,  you  shall  receive  no  detriment  from  a  connection 
•with  me  in  small  matters,  though  you  determine  to  inflict  so 
serious  a  one  on  me  in  great.  You  shall  not  be  at  a  farthing's 
expense.  I  shall  still,  so  far  as  my  powers  extend,  do  my 
best  to  promote  your  interest.  On  the  contrary  supposition, 
even  admitting  you  derive  no  benefit  from  the  book  itself — 
and  it  should  be  my  care  that  you  shall  do  so  —  I  hold  my- 
self ready  to  make  ample  indemnity  for  any  loss  you  may 
sustain. 

"  There  is  one  compromise  you  might  make,  though  that 
would  be  still  injurious  to  me.  Sherwood  and  Neely  wished 
to  be  the  principal  publishers.  Call  on  them,  and  say  that  it 
was  through  a  mistake  that  you  undertook  the  principal  direc- 
tion of  the  book,  as  it  was  my  wish  that  it  should  be  theirs, 
and  that  I  have  written  to  you  to  that  effect.  This,  if  it 
would  be  advantageous  to  you,  would  be  detrimental  to,  but 
not  utterly  destructive  of  my  views.  To  withdraw  your  name 
entirely,  would  be  to  inflict  on  me  a  bitter  and  undeserved 
injury. 

"  Let  me  hear  from  you  by  return  of  post.  I  hope  that  you 
will  be  influenced  to  fulfil  your  engagement  with  me,  and 
proceed  with  the  publication,  as  justice  to  me,  and,  indeed,  a 
well-understood  estimate  of  your  own  interest  and  character, 
demand.  I  do  hope  that  you  will  have  too  much  regard  to 
the  well-chosen  motto  of  your  seal  *  to  permit  the  murmurs  of 
a  few  bigots  to  outweigh  the  serious  and  permanent  considera- 
tions presented  in  this  letter.  To  their  remonstrances,  you 
have  only  to  reply,  '  1  did  not  write  the  book ;  I  am  not  re- 
sponsible ;  here  is  the  author's  address  —  state  your  objections 
to  him.  I  do  no  more  than  sell  it  to  those  who  inquire  for  it ; 
and,  if  they  are  not  pleased  with  their  bargain,  the  author 
empowers  me  to  receive  the  book  and  to  return  the  money.' 
As  to  the  interference  of  Government,  nothing  is  more  improb- 
able that  in  any  case  it  would  be  attempted ;  but,  if  it  should, 

*  "In  omnibus  libertas." 


94  SHELLEY   MEMORIALS. 

it  would  be  owing  entirely  to  your  perseverance  in  the  ground- 
less apprehensions  which  dictated  your  communication  received 
this  day,  and  conscious  terror  would  be  perverted  into  an  ar- 
gument of  guilt. 

"  I  have  just  received  a  most  kind  and  encouraging  letter 
from  Mr.  Moore  on  the  subject  of  my  poem.  I  have  the  fair- 
est chance  of  the  public  approaching  my  work  with  unbiassed 
and  unperverted  feeling ;  the  fruit  of  reputation  (and  you 
know  for  what  purposes  I  value  it)  is  within  my  reach.  It  is 
for  you,  now  you  have  been  once  named  as  publisher,  and 
have  me  in  your  power,  to  blast  all  this,  and  to  hold  up  my 
literary  character  in  the  eye  of  mankind  as  that  of  a  pro- 
scribed and  rejected  outcast.  And  for  no  evil  that  I  have 
ever  done  you,  but  in  return  for  a  preference,  which,  although 
you  falsely  now  esteem  injurious  to  you,  was  solicited  by  Hunt, 
and  conferred  by  me,  as  a  source  and  a  proof  of  nothing  but 
kind  intentions. 

"  Dear  Sir, 
"  I  remain  your  sincere  well-wisher, 

"Percy  B.  Shelley." 

The  poet,  however,  was  afterwards  convinced  of  the 
propriety  of  making  certain  alterations  ;  and  the  work 
was  issued  in  the  following  January  under  the  title  of  the 
Revolt  of  Islam. 

This  eloquent  and  passionate  poem  was  composed  partly 
on  the  Thames,  while  the  poet  rocked  idly  in  his  boat 
"  as  it  floated  under  the  beech  groves  of  Bisham  ; "  partly 
during  wanderings  among  the  beautiful  scenery  of  the 
neighborhood.  The  mingled  luxuriance  and  wildness  of 
the  country  surrounding  his  dwelling  gave  Shelley  the 
greatest  delight ;  but  this  pleasure  was  marred  by  the 
pain  arising  from  the  contemplation  of  the  extreme 
poverty    everywhere  visible    in  Marlow.     Many  of  the 


REVOLT    OF   ISLAM.  95 

women  of  that  town  were  (and  are  still)  lacemakers  — 
an  occupation  which,  while  it  entails  loss  of  health,  is 
very  ill-paid.  The  amount  of  distress  existing  in  the 
winter  of  1817-18  was  very  severe  ;  the  poor-laws  were 
administered  with  rigor  ;  the  late  war  had  frightfully  aug- 
mented taxation,  while  the  peace  had  thrown  many  per- 
sons, who  had  served  as  soldiers,  back  on  the  rural  popu- 
lation ;  and  a  bad  harvest  had  added  to  the  other  sources 
of  human  misery.  "  Shelley,"  says  his  widow,  "  afforded 
what  alleviation  he  could.  In  the  winter,  while  bringing 
out  his  poem,  he  had  a  severe  attack  of  ophthalmia, 
caught  while  visiting  the  poor  cottages."  * 

The  poem  at  once  inspired  all  lovers  of  literature  with 
considerable  interest  in  the  author ;  but  it  found  many 
severe  critics.  Even  Godwin  urged  several  objections  to 
its  general  style  ;  to  which  the  poet  replied  in  an  interest- 
ing letter  (dated  December  11th,  1817),  containing  a 
very  deeply-felt  and  accurate  estimate  of  the  peculiar 
tendencies  of  his  own  mind. 

"  I  have  read  and  considered,"  he  writes,  "  all  that  you 
say  about  my  general  powers,  and  the  particular  instance 
of  the  poem  in  which  I  have  attempted  to  develop  them. 
Nothing  can  be  more  satisfactory  to  me  than  the  interest 
which  your  admonitions  express.  But  I  think  you  are 
mistaken  in  some  points  with  regard  to  the  peculiar  na- 
ture of  my  powers,  whatever  be  their  amount.  I  listened 
with  deference  and  self-suspicion  to  your  censures  of  Laon 
and  Cythna ;  but  the  productions  of  mine  which  you 
commend  hold  a  very  low  place  in  my  own  esteem,  and 
*  Note  to  the  Revolt  of  Islam  in  the  collected  edition  of  the  Poems. 


96  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS 

this  reassured  me,  in  some  degree  at  least.  The  poem 
was  produced  by  a  series  of  thoughts  which  filled  my 
mind  with  unbounded  and  sustained  enthusiasm.  I  felt 
the  precariousness  of  my  life,  and  I  resolved  in  this  book 
to  leave  some  records  of  myself.  Much  of  what  the 
volume  contains  was  written  with  the  same  feeling,  as 
real,  though  not  so  prophetic,  as  the  communications  of  a 
dying  man.  I  never  presumed,  indeed,  to  consider  it 
anything  approaching  to  faultless  ;  but,  when  I  considered 
contemporary  productions  of  the  same  apparent  preten- 
sions, I  will  own  that  I  was  filled  with  confidence.  I  felt 
that  it  was  in  many  respects  a  genuine  picture  of  my  own 
mind.  I  felt  that  the  sentiments  were  true,  not  assumed  ; 
and  in  this  have  I  long  believed  —  that  my  power  consists 
in  sympathy,  and  that  part  of  imagination  which  relates 
to  sentiment  and  contemplation.  I  am  formed,  if  for 
anything  not  in  common  with  the  herd  of  mankind,  to 
apprehend  minute  and  remote  distinctions  of  feeling, 
whether  relative  to  external  nature  or  the  living  beings 
which  surround  us,  and  to  communicate  the  conceptions 
which  result  from  considering  either   the   moral  or  the 

material  universe  as  a  whole Yet,  after  all, 

I  cannot  but  be  conscious,  in  much  of  what  I  write,  of  an 
absence  of  that  tranquillity  which  is  the  attribute  and  ac- 
companiment of  power.  This  feeling  alone  would  make 
your  most  kind  and  wise  admonitions,  on  the  subject  of 
the  economy  of  intellectual  force,  valuable  to  me.  And, 
if  I  live,  or  if  I  see  any  trust  in  coming  years,  doubt  not 
but  that  1  shall  do  something,  whatever  it  may  be,  which 
a  serious  and  earnest  estimate  of  my  powers  will  suggest 


REVOLT    OF   ISLAM.  97 

to  me,  and  which  will  be  in  every  respect  accommodated 
to  their  utmost  limits." 

It  is  not  difficult  to  understand  why  Godwin  failed  to 
appreciate  the  new  production  of  his  son-in-law.  He 
had  formed  his  tastes  in  poetry  by  a  life-long  perusal  of 
our  old  English  masters  —  the  men  of  the  Shakspearean 
and  Miltonic  eras ;  and  it  was  impossible  that  he  could 
have  gone  to  a  better  school.  But  the  poetry  of  Shelley 
—  excepting  in  as  far  as  it  was  inspired,  in  its  metaphysi- 
cal part,  by  the  genius  of  ancient  Greece  —  was  essen- 
tially modern  in  its  character.  It  mingled  the  impalpable 
suggestions  of  mysticism  with  images  of  exotic  splendor, 
tropical  in  the  heat  and  glory  of  their  hues,  touched  with 
a  light  that  seemed  to  dawn  from  some  remote  and  super- 
natural future,  and  often  dim  with  the  too  great  intensity 
of  the  writer's  emotions  and  the  excessive  radiance  in 
which  he  robed  his  subtle  imaginings.  The  practical, 
acute,  clear  mind  of  Godwin  could  not  live,  with  any  com- 
fort to  itself,  in  this  region  of  ethereal,  though  sublime 
magnificence  ;  neither  his  temperament  nor  his  intellect- 
ual habits  fitted  him  for  deriving  any  high  degree  of 
pleasure  from  a  practice  so  opposed  to  his  own.  But 
Shelley  has  helped  to  make  the  times  more  poetical ;  and 
the  flame-like  energy  and  grandeur,  the  tumultuous  pas- 
sion, and  the  strange  visionary  beauty  of  the  Revolt  of 
Islam  are  now  universally  acknowledged. 

In  the  same  year,  Shelley  also  wrote  the  highly  mys- 
tical fragments  of  Prince  Athanase  —  fragments,  how- 
ever, full  of  beauty  and  music ;  a  large  part  of  Rosalind 
and  Helen ;  a  few  small  poems  ;  and  a  pamphlet  advo- 


98  SHELLEY  MEMORIALS. 

eating  Parliamentary  Reform,  published  under  the  signa- 
ture of  the  "  Hermit  of  Harlow."  This  political  work 
is  remarkable  for  the  statesmanlike  calmness  of  the 
writer's  opinions,  and  the  moderation  of  his  demands. 
Shelley  here  proposed  that  committees  should  be  formed 
with  a  view  to  polling  the  entire  people  on  the  subject 
which  was  then,  as  now,  agitating  the  whole  nation.  He 
disavowed  any  wish  to  establish  universal  suffrage  at 
once,  or  to  do  away  with  monarchy  and  aristocracy, 
while  so  large  a  proportion  of  the  people  remained  dis- 
qualified by  ignorance  from  sharing  in  the  government 
of  the  country,  though  he  looked  forward  to  a  time  when 
the  world  would  be  enabled  to  "  disregard  the  symbols 
of  its  childhood  ;  "  and  he  suggested  that  the  qualification 
for  the  suffrage  should  be  the  registry  of  the  voter's 
name  as  one  who  paid  a  certain  small  sum  in  direct 
taxes.  Such  were  the  views  of  a  political  thinker  who 
was  equally  removed  from  being  a  Tory  or  a  dema- 
gogue. 

At  the  end  of  this  year  (1817),  a  relapse  of  the 
severe  attack  of  ophthalmia,  caught  from  his  visits  to 
the  poor  cottagers  in  his  neighborhood,  deprived  Shelley 
of  his  usual  resource  of  reading.  In  looking  over  the 
journal  in  which,  from  day  to  day,  Hrs.  Shelley  was 
in  the  habit  of  noting  their  occupations,  as  well  as  pass- 
ing events,  one  is  struck  with  wonder  at  the  number 
of  books  which  they  read  in  the  course  of  the  year.  At 
home  or  travelling  —  before  breakfast,  or  waiting  for 
the  mid-day  meal  —  by  the  side  of  a  stream,  or  on  the 
ascent  of  a  mountain  —  a  book  was  never  abseut  from 


REVOLT    OF    ISLAM. 


99 


the  hands  of  one  or  the  other ;  and  there  were  never 
two  books ;  one  read  while  the  other  listened.  The 
catalogue  of  works  perused,  which  I  subjoin,  would  seem 
to  require  the  unremitting  attention  of  unfettered  lei- 
sure ;  yet  at  this  time  Shelley  was  greatly  occupied  with 
affairs  of  business,  and  his  mind  was  much  harassed 
by  the  Chancery  suit  with  regard  to  his  children. 


Greek. 


"  List  of  Books  head  by 

Symposium  of  Plato. 

Plays  of  yEschylus. 

Plays  of  Sophocles. 

Iliad  of  Homer. 

Arriani  llistoria  India;. 

Homer's  Hymns. 

llistoire  do  la  lie  volution  Fran- 
f-iiisc. 

Apuleius. 

Metamorphoses  —  Latin. 

Coleridge's  Riogrnphia  Litem- 
ria. 

Political  Justice. 

Rights  of  Man. 

Klphinstone's  Fmhassy. 

Several  volumes  of  Gibbon. 

Two  volumes  of  Lord  Chester- 
field's Letters. 

Coleridge's  Lay  Sermons. 


SlIRLLKT   AND   MAKY  IN  1817. 

Memoirs  of  Count  Grammont. 
Somninm  Scipionis. 
Roderick  Random. 
Sir  Philip  Sydney's  Arcadia, 

Beaumont    and   Fletcher  —  three 

plays. 
Wavcrley. 

Kpistohc  Plinii  Sccundi. 
Vita  Julii  Cnsaari.  —  Suetonius. 
Davis's  Travels  in  America. 
Manuscrit  venu  de  St.  Ilelene. 
Button's  Theorie  dc  la  Terre. 
Lettres  Persiennes. 
Moliorc*«  George  Dandin. 
La  Xouvelle  Ih'lo'ise. 
Godwin's  Miscellanies. 
Spenser's  Faery  Qucene. 
First  volume  of  Hume's  Essays. 
Besides  many  novels,  poems,  &c. 


100  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

ITALY:    1818. 

The  year  1818  was  memorable  in  the  life  of  Shelley, 
on  account  of  his  having  at  that  date  quitted  England, 
to  which  he  was  destined  never  to  return.  The  gen- 
eral  state  of  his  health,  together  with  other  motives, 
induced  him  to  seek  a  more  genial  climate  in  the  south 
of  Europe.  One  of  his  most  powerful  reasons  was  a 
fear  lest  the  Lord  Chancellor  might  follow  out  some 
vague  threat  which  he  had  uttered  in  delivering  judg- 
ment, and  deprive  him  of  his  infant  son  by  his  second 
wife.  No  attempt  was  made  to  act  on  this  threat ;  but 
so  .much  did  Shelley  fear  that  the  outrage  would  be 
committed,  that  he  addressed  the  child  (who  after- 
wards died  at  Rome)  in  some  beautiful  stanzas,  sig- 
nifying his  readiness  to  abandon  his  country  forever, 
rather  than  be  parted  from  another  of  his  offspring:  — 

"  The  billows  on  the  beach  are  leaping  around  it; 
The  bark  is  weak  and  frail; 
The  sea  looks  black,  and  the  clouds  that  bound  it 
Darkly  strew  the  gale 


ITALY.  101 


Come  with  me,  thou  delightful  child! 
Come  with  me!     Though  the  wave  is  wild 
And  the  winds  are  loose,  we  must  not  stay, 
Or  the  slaves  of  law  may  rend  thee  awav. 


"  Rest,  rest !  shriek  not,  thou  gentle  child ! — 

The  rocking  of  the  boat  thou  fearest, 
And  the  cold  spray,  and  the  clamor  wild? 

There,  sit  between  us  two,  thou  dearest,  — 
Me  and  thy  mother.     Well  we  know 
The  storm  at  which  thou  trcmblest  so, 
With  all  its  dark  and  hungry  graves, 
Less  cruel  than  the  savage  slaves 
Who  hunt  thee  o'er  these  sheltering  waves. 

"  This  hour  will  in  thy  memory 

Re  a  dream  of  days  forgotten: 
We  soon  shall  dwell  by  the  azure  sea 

Of  serene  and  golden  Italy, 

Or  Greece,  the  Mother  of  the  Free. 
And  I  will  teach  thine  infant  tongue 

To  call  upon  their  heroes  old 

In  their  own  language,  and  will  mould 
Thy  growing  spirit  in  the  flame 
Of  Grecian  lore;  that,  by  such  name, 
A  patriot's  birthright  thou  may'st  claim." 

In  the  early  part  of  the  year,  Shelley  was  much  occu- 
pied with  matters  of  business  in  London  ;  but  in  March 
they  started  for  Italy.  They  went  thither  direct,  avoid- 
ing even  Paris,  and  did  not  pause  till  they  arrived  at 
Milan.  From  this  city,  the  little  Allegra  was  sent,  under 
the  care  of  a  nurse,  to  her  father  at  Venice. 

The  removal  to  Italy  was  advantageous  to  Shelley  in 


102  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

almost  every  respect.  It  is  true  that  he  left  behind  him 
friends  to  whom  he  was  attached ;  but  cares  of  various 
kinds,  many  of  them  springing  from  his  lavish  gener- 
osity, crowded  round  him  in  his  native  country,  and  the 
climate  afflicted  him  with  extreme  suffering.  His  great- 
est pleasure  —  the  free  enjoyment  of  natural  scenery  — 
was  marred  by  this  sensitiveness  to  the  influence  of  Eng- 
lish weather. 

The  very  first  aspect  of  Italy  (as  Mrs.  Shelley  has 
recorded)  enchanted  him.  The  land  appeared  like  "a 
garden  of  delight  placed  beneath  a  clearer  and  brighter 
heaven  than  any  he  had  lived  under  before.  He  wrote 
long  descriptive  letters  during  the  first  year  of  his  resi- 
dence ; "  and  in  these  we  see,  not  merely  the  consum- 
mate handling  of  a  master  of  prose  composition,  but  a 
poet's  appreciation  of  all  forms  of  loveliness,  whether  of 
nature  or  of  art. 

A  very  romantic  story  touching  this  period  of  Shel- 
ley's life  is  told  by  Captain  Medwin.  He  asserts  that  a 
married  lady  introduced  herself  to  the  poet  in  the  year 
1816,  shortly  before  his  departure  for  Switzerland,  and, 
concealing  her  name,  told  him  that  his  many  virtues  and 
the  grandeur  of  his  opinions  in  politics,  morals,  and  re- 
ligion, had  inspired  her  with  such  an  ardent  passion  for 
him  that  she  had  resolved  on  abandoning  her  husband, 
her  family,  and  her  friends,  with  a  view  to  linking  her 
fortunes  to  those  of  Shelley. 

Of  this  strange  narrative,  it  will  be  sufficient  to  say 
here  that  not  the  slightest  allusion  to  it  is  to  be  found  in 
any  of  the  family  documents. 


ITALY.  103 

The  Shelleys  stayed  a  month  at  Milan;  and,  after 
visiting  the  Lake  of  Como,  proceeded  to  Leghorn,  where 
they  became  acquainted  with  Mrs.  Gisborne,  a  lady  who 
had  formerly* been  a  most  intimate  friend  of  Mary  Woll- 
stonecraft  (Mrs.  Shelley's  mother).  The  thoughtful  char- 
acter and  amiable  disposition  of  this  lady  seem  to  have 
bound  the  whole  party  in  ties  of  friendship,  which  con- 
tinued unbroken  till  the  end. 

At  the  Baths  of  Lucca,  where  the  poet  and  his  wife 
next  went,  Rosalind  and  Helen,  begun  at  Marlow,  was 
finished,  at  the  request  of  Mrs.  Shelley.  Thence,  in 
August,  Shelley  visited  Venice  ;  and,  circumstances  ren- 
dering it  advisable  that  he  should  remain  near  at  hand 
for  a  few  weeks,  he  resided  during  that  time  at  a  villa 
which  Lord  Byron  rented  at  Este,  and  which  was  kindly 
placed  at  his  disposal.  Here  he  was  joined  by  his  family, 
and  here  also  more  than  one  literary  work  was  prose- 
cuted. /  Capuccini  (such  was  the  name  of  the  residence) 
is  described  by  Mrs.  Shelley  as  "  a  villa  built  on  the  site 
of  a  Capuchin  convent,  demolished  when  the  French  sup- 
pressed religious  houses.  It  was  situated  on  the  very 
overhanging  brow  of  a  low  hill  at  the  foot  of  a  range  of 
higher  ones.  The  house  was  cheerful  and  pleasant;  a 
vine-trellised  walk  —  a  Pergola,  as  it  is  called  in  Italian 
—  led  from  the  hall -door  to  a  summer-house  at  the  end 
of  the  garden,  which  Shelley  made  his  study,  and  in 
which  he  began  the  Prometheus ;  and  here  also,  as  he 
mentions  in  a  letter,  he  wrote  Jidian  and  Maddalo.  A 
slight  ravine,  with  a  road  in  its  depth,  divided  the  garden 
from  the   hill,  on  which  stood  the  ruins  of  the  ancient 


104  SHELLEY   MEMORIALS. 

castle  of  Este ;  whose  dark,  massive  wall  gave  forth  an 
echo,  and  from  whose  ruined  crevices  owls  and  bats  flit- 
ted forth  at  night,  as  the  crescent  moon  sank  behind  the 
black  and  heavy  battlements.  We  looked"from  the  gar- 
den over  the  wide  plain  of  Lombardy,  bounded  to  the 
west  by  the  far  Apennines,  while,  to  the  east,  the  hori- 
zon was  lost  in  misty  distance." 

Julian  and  Maddalo  is  one  of  the  most  fervent,  dra- 
matic, and  intense  of  its  author's  productions  ;  and  yet 
one  of  the  most  compact,  highly  wrought,  and  mature. 
The  descriptions  of  Italian  scenery  are  wonderfully  mi- 
nute and  particular,  when  we  consider  that  the  poet  had 
been  only  about  half  a  year  in  the  country.  Of  the 
magnificence  of  the  word-pictures  —  especially  in  that 
gorgeous  vision  of  a  Venetian  sunset,  sphering  in  a  tran- 
sitory glory  the  sea,  the  ships,  the  palaces,  the  distant 
lulls,  and  the  ghastly  madhouse  —  it  would  be  difficult 
to  say  too  much ;  while  the  soliloquy  of  the  poor  maniac 
is  dusky  and  thick  with  human  passion  and  pathos  —  the 
whole  tragedy  of  a  sorrowful  life  brought  within  the 
compass  of  a  few  pages.  The  poem,  moreover,  is  inter- 
esting on  account  of  the  portraiture  given  by  Shelley  of 
Lord  Byron,  who  is  figured  under  the  name  of  Mad- 
dalo—  Julian  being  Shelley  himself.  The  little  Allcgra 
is  also  described  in  lines  of  gentle  pathos  which  have 
never  been  surpassed :  — 

"  The  following  morn  was  rainy,  cold,  and  dim : 
Ere  Maddalo  arose,  I  call'd  on  him: 
And,  whilst  I  waited,  with  his  child  \  play'd; — 
A  lovelier  tov  sweet  Nature  never  made; 


ITALY.  105 

A  serious,  subtle,  wild,  yet  gentle  being, 

Graceful  without  design,  and  unforeseeing; 

With  eyes  —  oh !  speak  not  of  her  eyes,  which  seem 

Twin  mirrors  of  Italian  heaven,  yet  gleam 

With  such  deep  meaning  as  we  never  see 

But  in  the  human  countenance.     With  me 

She  was  a  special  favorite:   I  had  nurs'd 

Her  fine  and  feeble  limbs,  when  she  came  first 

To  this  bleak  world;  and  yet  she  seem'd  to  know, 

On  second  sight,  her  ancient  playfellow, 

Less  changed  than  she  was,  by  six  months  or  so. 

For,  after  her  first  shyness  was  worn  out, 

We  sat  there,  rolling  billiard  balls  about, 

When  the  Count  enter' d." 

While  they  were  at  Este,  their  little  (laughter,  Clara, 
showed  signs  of  suffering  from  the  heat  of  the  climate. 
Her  indisposition  being  increased  to  an  alarming  extent 
by  teething,  the  parents  hastened  to  Venice  for  the  best 
advice,  but  discovered  at  Fusina  that,  in  their  agitation, 
they  had  forgotten  the  passport.  The  soldiers  on  duty 
attempted  to  prevent  their  crossing  the  lagune ;  but 
Shelley,  with  his  usual  vehemence,  augmented  by  the 
urgent  nature  of  the  case,  broke  through,  and  they 
reached  Venice.  Unhappily,  it  was  too  late ;  the  little 
creature  died  just  as  they  arrived. 

At  this  period  Shelley  composed  his  exquisite  descrip- 
tive poem,  Lines  written  among  the  Euganean  Hills.  In 
November,  he  and  Mrs.  Shelley  started  southward,  and 
on  the  1st  of  December  they  arrived  at  Naples.  In  the 
mean  while,  they  had  hastily  visited  Ferrara,  Bologna, 
and  Rome,  as  well  as  other  towns  of  less  note.  The 
winter  was  spent  in  the  hot  and  indolent  city  of  the 
6  * 


106  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

south ;  and  here  the  Shelleys  lived  very  solitarily  —  too 
much  so,  according  to  the  opinion  of  his  widow,  who 
thinks  that  a  little  intellectual  society  would  have  done 
great  service  to  the  spirits  of  her  husband,  now  once 
more  in  a  bad  state  of  health,  and  often  plunged  into 
extreme  gloom.  He  records  this  state  of  mind  in  his 
Stanzas  written  in  Dejection  near  Naples  (December, 
1818),  giving  vent  to  his  sorrow  in  lines  which  unite  the 
utmost  gentleness  of  pathos  to  the  most  lovely  conceptions 
of  poetry  and  the  finest  harmonies  of  verse :  — 

"  Yet  now  despair  itself  is  mild, 

Even  as  the  winds  and  waters  are: 
I  could  lie  down  like  a  tired  child, 
And  weep  away  the  life  of  care 
Which  I  have  borne,  and  yet  must  bear, 
Till  death,  like  sleep,  might  steal  on  me, 

And  I  might  feel  in  the  warm  air 
My  cheek  grow  cold,  and  hear  the  sea 
Breathe  o'er  my  dying  brain  its  last  monotony." 

But  this  dejection  —  the  result  of  many  causes  —  gave 
place  to  a  happier  mood  before  the  poet  was  snatched 
away  from  life. 

The  letters  pertaining  to  this  year  may  now  follow  in 
their  regular  sequence. 

FROM   GODWIN    TO    SHELLEY. 

"  Skinner  Street,  June  StJi,  1818. 
"  My  dear  Shelley, 

"  You  arc  in  a  new  country,  and  must  be  from  day  to 
day  seeing  objects  and  experiencing  sensations,  of  which  I 


ITALY.  107 

should  be  delighted  to  hear.  Write  as  to  your  equal,  and,  if 
that  word  is  not  discordant  to  your  feelings,  your  friend.  It 
would  be  strange  indeed  if  we  could  not  find  topics  of  com- 
munication that  may  be  gratifying  to  both.  Let  each  of  us 
dwell  on  those  qualities  in  the  other  which  may  contribute 
most  to  the  increase  of  mutual  kindness.  It  is  the  judgment 
of  the  human  species,  and  is  fully  accordant  to  my  own  ex- 
perience, that  the  arrival  and  perusal  of  a  letter  from  an 
absent  friend  is  naturally  one  of  the  sources  of  the  most  deli- 
cious emotions  of  which  man  is  susceptible. 

"  Since  I  began  this  letter,  I  have  conceived  the  plan  of  a 
book  which  is,  I  think,  a  great  desideratum  in  English  history 
and  biography,  to  be  called  The  Lives  of  the  Commonwealth's 
Men.  I  would  confine  myself  to  ten  names:  —  Sir  Henry 
Vane,  Henry  Martin,  Henry  Ireton,  John  Bradshaw,  John 
Milton,  John  Hutchinson,  Edmund  Ludlow,  Oliver  St.  John, 
Nathaniel  Fiennes,  Algernon  Sidney.  The  whole  might  be 
comprised  in  two  volumes,  or  perhaps  in  one.  It  has  been  the 
mode  for  more  than  a  hundred  and  fifty  years  to  load  the 
Commonwealth's  men  (regicides,  as  they  are  often  called)  with 
all  the  abuse  and  scurrility  that  language  can  furnish.  I  would 
have  them  shown  as  they  are  —  "  Nothing  extenuate,  nor  set 
down  aught  in  malice  ; "  —  and  perhaps  they  will  be  found 
equal  to  any  ten  men  in  the  annals  of  the  Roman  republic. 
There  were  great  and  admirable  personages  among  the  Pres- 
byterians —  Hampden  and  Pym,  for  instance ;  these,  fortu- 
nately for  themselves,  died  early ;  but  the  Presbyterians  have 
this  slur  upon  them,  that  they  contributed  most  actively,  after 
the  death  of  Cromwell,  to  bring  back  the  King,  and  thus  to 
occasion  all  the  bloody,  inhuman,  and  profligate  scenes  that 
followed.  I  would  admit  none  into  my  list  but  such  to  whom 
I  could  apply  Horace's  rule  — 

'  Servetur  ad  imum, 
Qualis  ab  incepto  processerit,  et  sibi  constet.' 

"  Now,  this  work  I  shall  never  write.     All  that  I  intended, 


108  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

therefore,  was  to  put  down  the  plan  of  it  in  memorandum  on 
a  page  of  paper.  But  in  my  bed  this  morning  I  thought  — 
Mary,  perhaps,  would  like  to  write  it ;  and  I  should  think  she 
is  perfectly  capable.  The  books  to  be  consulted  would  be 
comparatively  few  :  Noble's  Memoirs  of  the  Protectorate  House 
of  Cromwell ;  Whitlock's  Memorials  of  English  Affairs  under 
Charles  the  First ;  Ludlow's  Memoirs  ;  Colonel  Hutchinson's 
Memoirs  ;  the  trial  of  the  twenty-nine  Regicides  ;  the  trial  of 
Sir  Henry  Vane  ;  also,  dying  speeches  of  Corbet,  Okey,  and 
Barkstead.  In  a  few  instances,  as  I  have  observed  in  my 
letter  of  advice,  the  references  of  these  authors  might  lead  to 
further  materials. 

"  By  such  a  book  at  this,  the  English  history,  in  one  of  its 
most  memorable  periods,  would  be  made  intelligible,  which  has 
never  yet  been  the  case.  It  has  been  slurred  and  confounded, 
and  no  grand  and  consistent  picture  of  the  men  and  their 
characters  has  ever  been  made  out.  There  is  a  strong  and 
inveterate  prejudice  in  this  country  in  favor  of  what  these 
heroes  styled  '  the  government  of  a  single  person.'  I  would  at 
least  have  it  shown  that  ten  men,  some  of  them  never  sur- 
passed in  ability,  perhaps  none  of  them  in  integrity,  in  this 
island,  devoted  themselves  in  heart  and  soul,  with  all  their 
powers,  to  a  purer  creed. 

"  Very  affectionately  yours, 

"  W.  Godwin." 


FROM    MRS.    SHELLEY   TO    MRS.    GISBORNE. 

"  Casa  Bertini,  Bagni  di  Lucca,  June  15,  1818. 
"My  dear  Madam, 

"  It  is  strange,  after  having  been  in  the  habit  of  visiting 
you  daily  now  for  so  many  days,  to  have  no  communication 
with  you,  and,  after  having  been  accustomed  for  a  month  to 
the  tumult  of  Via  Grande,  to  come  to  this  quiet  scene,  where 
we  hear  no  sound  except  the  rushing  of  the  river  in  the  valley 


ITALY.  109 

below.  While  at  Levorno,  I  hardly  heard  the  noise  ;  but, 
when  I  came  here,  I  felt  the  silence  as  a  return  to  something 
very  delightful  from  which  I  had  been  long  absent.  We  live 
here  in  the  midst  of  a  beautiful  scene,  and  I  wish  that  I  had 
the  imagination  and  expressions  of  a  poet  to  describe  it  as  it 
deserves,  and  to  fill  you  all  with  an  ardent  desire  to  visit  it. 
We  are  surrounded  by  mountains  covered  with  thick  chestnut 
woods ;  they  are  peaked  and  picturesque,  and  sometimes  you 
see  peeping  above  them  the  bare  summit  of  a  distant  Apen- 
nine.  Vines  are  cultivated  at  the  foot  of  the  mountains.  The 
walks  in  the  woods  are  delightful ;  for  I  like  nothing  so  much 
as  to  be  surrounded  by  the  foliage  of  trees,  only  peeping  now 
and  then  through  the  leafy  screen  on  the  scene  about  me. 
You  can  either  walk  by  the  side  of  the  river,  or  on  commodi- 
ous paths  cut  in  the  mountains ;  and,  for  rambles,  the  woods 
are  intersected  with  narrow  paths  in  every  direction.  Our 
house  is  small,  but  commodious,  and  exceedingly  clean,  for  it 
has  just  been  painted,  and  the  furniture  is  quite  new.  We 
have  a  small  garden,  and  at  the  end  of  it  is  an  arbor  of  laurel 
trees,  so  thick  that  the  sun  does  not  penetrate  it ;  nor  has  my 
prediction  followed  us,  that  we  should  everywhere  find  it  cold. 
Although  not  hot,  the  weather  has  been  very  pleasant.  We 
see  the  fire-flies  in  an  evening,  somewhat  dimmed  by  the 
bright  rays  of  the  moon. 

"And  now  I  will  say  a  few  words  of  our  domestic  economy 
—  albeit,  I  am  afraid  the  subject  has  tired  you  out  of  your  wits 
•more  than  once.  Signor  Chiappa  we  found  perfectly  useless. 
He  would  talk  of  nothing  but  himself,  and  recommended  a  per- 
son to  cook  our  dinner  for  us  at  three  pauls  a  day.  So,  as  it 
is,  Paolo  (whom  we  find  exceedingly  useful)  cooks  and  man- 
ages for  us,  and  a  woman  comes  at  one  paul  a  day  to  do  the 
dirty  work.  We  live  very  comfortably,  and,  if  Paolo  did  not 
cheat  us,  he  would  be  a  servant  worth  a  treasure,  for  he  does 
everything  cleanlily  and  exactly,  without  teazing  us  in  any 
way.  So  we  lead  here  a  very  quiet,  pleasant  life,  reading  our 
canto  of  Ariosto,  and  walking  in  the  evening  among  these 


110  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

delightful  woods.  We  have  but  one  wish.  You  know  what 
that  is,  but  you  take  no  pity  on  us,  and  exile  us  from  your 
presence  so  long  that  I  quite  long  to  see  you  again.  Now  we 
see  no  one.  The  Signor  Chiappa  is  a  stupid  fellow,  and  the 
Casino  is  not  open,  that  I  know  of —  at  least,  it  is  not  at  all 
frequented.  When  it  is,  every  kind  of  amusement  goes  on 
there,  particularly  dancing,  which  is  divided  into  four  parts  — 
English  and  French  country  dances,  quadrilles,  waltzes,  and 
Italian  dances.  These  take  place  twice  a  week,  on  which 
evenings  the  ladies  dress,  but  on  others  they  go  merely  in  a 
walking  dress. 

a  We'  have  found  among  our  books  a  volume  of  poems  of 
Lord  Byron's,  which  you  have  not  seen.  Some  of  them  I 
think  you  will  like  ;  but  this  will  be  a  novelty  to  recommend 
us  on  our  return  I  begin  to  be  very  much  delighted  with 
Ariosto  ;  the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth  canto  is  particularly 
beautiful.  It  is  the  wounding  of  Medoro,  and  his  being  re- 
lieved by  Angelica,  who,  for  a  wonder,  shows  herself  in  the 
light  of  a  sympathizing  and  amiable  person. 
"Affectionately  yours, 

"  Mary  Wollstoxecraft  Shelley." 

from  mrs.  shelley  to  mrs.  gisborne. 

"  BcKjni  di  Lucca,  July  2,  1818. 
"  My  Dear  Madam, 

"An  earthquake  for  the  steam-engine,  and  thus  to  swal- 
low up  Mr.  Reveley's  *  whole  territory,  is  somewhat  a  harsh 
remedy  ;  yet  I  could  wish  for  one  that  could  transport  it  (if 
you  will  not  come  without  it)  to  these  Bagni,  where  I  am  sure 
you  would  be  enchanted  with  everything  except  the  English 
that  are  crowded  here  to  the  almost  entire  exclusion  of 
Italians,  so  that  I  think  it  would  be  easier  to  have  a  conver- 
sazione of  Italians  in    England   than    here   in    their   native 

*  Mr.  fteveley  was  a  son  of  Mrs.  Gisborne  by  a  former  marriage. 
—  Bd. 


ITALY.  Ill 

country.  We  see  none  but  English;  we  hear  nothing  but 
English  spoken.  The  walks  are  filled  with  English  nursery 
maids  —  a  kind  of  animal  I  by  no  means  like  —  and  dash- 
ing, staring  Englishwomen,  who  surprise  the  Italians  (who 
always  are  carried  about  in  sedan  chairs)  by  riding  on  horse- 
back. For  us,  we  generally  walk,  except  last  Tuesday,  when 
Shelley  and  I  took  a  long  ride  to  11  Prato  lnorlto,  a  flowery 
meadow  on  the  top  of  one  of  the  neighboring  Apennines.  We 
rode  among  chestnut  woods,  leaving  the  noisy  cicala,  and 
there  was  nothing  disagreeable  in  it,  except  the  steepness  of 
the  ascent.  The  woods  about  here  are  in  every  way  delight- 
ful, especially  when  they  are  plain,  with  grassy  walks  through 
them.  They  are  filled  with  sweet-singing  birds,  and  not  long 
ago  we  heard  a  cuckoo.  Mr.  Shelley  wishes  to  go  with  me  to 
Monte  Pelerino — the  highest  of  the  Apennines  —  at  the  top 
of  which  there  is  a  shrine.  It  is  distant  about  twenty-two 
miles.  Can  it  be  there  that  the  Italian  palates  were  deceived 
by  unwholesome  food  V  (to  talk  of  that  hideous  transaction  in 
their  own  cool  way)  ;  and  would  you  think  it  advisable  for  us 
to  make  this  pilgrimage?  We  must  go  on  horseback  and 
sleep  in  one  of  the  houses  on  the  mountain. 

M I  have  had  a  letter  from  my  father ;  he  does  not  appear 
very  well  in  health,  but  I  hope  the  summer  will  restore  him. 
He  says  in  his  letter :  '  I  was  extremely  gratified  by  your 
account  of  Mrs.  Gisborne.' 

"  We  are .  now  in  the  36th  canto  of  Ariosto.  How  very 
entertaining  it  is,  and  how  exceedingly  beautiful  are  many 
of  the  stories !  Yet  I  cannot  think  him  so  great  a  poet  as 
Spenser,  although,  as  I  said  before,  a  much  better  story-teller. 
I  wonder  if  I  shall  like  Tasso  better  ? 
"  My  dear  Mrs.  Gisborne, 

"  Yours  affectionately  and  obliged, 

"Mary  W.  Shelley." 


112  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

FROM    GODWIN   TO    MRS.    SHELLEY. 

"Skinner  Street,  July  7th,  1818. 
"My  dear  Mary, 

"  You  will,  I  dare  say,  be  glad  to  hear  that  I  am  now  over 
head  and  ears  in  my  answer  to  Malthas.  That  painful  com- 
plication of  circumstances,  which  for  four  or  five  months  sus- 
pended my  labors,  seems  at  present  to  have  dispersed  itself 
like  a  summer  cloud.  But  I  know  that  all  these  appearances 
are  fallacious.  I  know  that  the  tempest  is  brewing  in  the  dis- 
tance, and  that  at  no  very  remote  period  it  will  pour  all  its 
fury  upon  my  devoted  head.*  But  this  very  consciousness 
gives  new  energy  to  my  exertions.  Providence,  or  by  what- 
ever other  name  we  shall  call  that  principle  that  presides  over 
the  affairs  of  men,  has  granted  me  an  interval,  however  short, 
of  cheerfulness  and  serenity  ;  and  (particularly  at  my  time  of 
life)  such  a  favor  is  to  be  received  as  an  inestimable  present, 
which  it  becomes  me  most  assiduously  and  vigilantly  to  im- 
prove. 

"  The  Westminster  election  closes  on  Saturday,  and  the 
result  of  the  whole  in  this  division  is,  that  the  metropolis, 
which  sends  eight  members  —  four  for  London,  two  for  West- 
minster, and  two  for  Southwark —  has  not  sent,  in  its  whole 
number,  one  old  supporter  of  the  present  Administration.  The 
members  for  Westminster  are  Komilly  and  Burdett ;  for 
Southwark,  Calvert,  a  veteran  Foxite,  and  Sir  Robert  Wil- 
son ;  and  for  London,  Alderman  Wood,  Alderman  Morp,  and 
Waithman  (all  stanch  Oppositionists),  and  Mr.  Wilson,  a  new 
man,  who  will,  in  all  probability,  vote  for  Government,  but 
who  is  at  least  not  an  old  supporter.  Sir  William  Curtis  for 
London  —  their  right-hand  man  —  is  thrown  out.  The  conse- 
quence of  all  this  is,  that  everybody  is  of  opinion  that,  if  time 
had  been  given,  and  these  examples  had  been  sufficiently 

#  Godwin  here  alludes  to  pecuniary  difficulties.  —  Ed. 


ITALY.  113 

early,  the  general  defeat  of  the  Ministry  would  have  been 
memorable.  As  it  is,  it  is  computed  that  the  Ministerial  ma- 
jority will  immediately  be  diminished  by  forty  or  fifty  votes ; 
and  sanguine  people  say,  nobody  can  tell  what  that  may 
end  in. 

"  My  occupations  call  me  away,  and  I  cannot  add  much  to 
this  letter.  I  am  anxious  to  know  what  you  are  about,  and 
could  wish,  as  you  kindly  say  on  your  part,  that  I  could  hear 
from  you  more  frequently.  I  follow  you  in  imagination  under 
Italian  skies,  and  amidst  Italian  scenery,  and  all  the  precious 
antiquities  of  that  memorable  region.  I  should  be  happy  to 
hear  of  Shelley's  health,  of  your  occupations,  and  of  the 
progress  and  improvement  of  your  William. 

"  Farewell !  Be  useful,  be  respectable,  be  happy  !  Such 
is  the  prayer  of  your  affectionate  father, 

"  William  Godwin. 

"  P.  S.  —  Mr.  Brougham  has  just  lost  his  election  for  West- 
moreland ;  but  he  appears  to  be  sanguine  of  success  at  the 
next  opportunity.     He  had  900  votes;  his  competitors,  1,100 


FROM   MRS.    SHELLEY    TO    MRS.    GISBORNE. 

"Bagni  di  Lucca,  August  17th,  1818. 
"My  dear  Madam, 

u  It  gave  me  great  pleasure  to  receive  your  letter  after 
so  lonxg  a  silence,  when  I  had  begun  to  conjecture  a  thousand 
reasons  for  it,  and,  among  others,  illness,  in  which  I  was  half 
light.  Indeed,  I  am  much  concerned  to  hear  of  Mr.  R.'s 
attacks,  and  sincerely  hope  that  nothing  will  retard  his  speedy 
recovery.  His  illness  gives  me  a  slight  hope  that  you  might 
now  be  induced  to  come  to  the  baths,  if  it  were  even  to  try 
the  effect  of  the  hot  baths.  You  would  find  the  weather  cool ; 
for  we  already  feel  in  this  part  of  the  world  that  the  year  is 
declinfng,  by  the  cold  mornings  and  evenings.    I  have  another 


114  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

selfish  reason  to  wish  that  you  would  come,  which  I  have  a 
great  mind  not  to  mention ;  yet  I  will  not  omit  it,  as  it  might 

induce  you.     Shelley  and  C are  gone  ;  they  went  to-day 

to  Venice  on  important  business ;  and  I  am  left  to  take  care 
of  the  house.  Now,  if  all  of  you,  or  any  of  you,  would  come 
and  cheer  my  solitude,  it  would  be  exceedingly  kind.  I  dare 
say  you  would  find  many  of  your  friends  here ;  among  the 
rest  there  is  the  Signora  Felicho,  whom  I  believe  you  knew 
at  Pisa. 

"  Shelley  and  I  have  ridden  almost  every  evening.     C 

did  the  same  at  first ;  but  she  has  been  unlucky,  and  once  fell 
from  her  horse,  and  hurt  her  knee  so  as  to  knock  her  up  for 
some  time.  It  is  the  fashion  here  for  all  the  English  to  ride  ; 
and  it  is  very  pleasant  on  these  fine  evenings,  when  we  set 
out  at  sunset  and  are  lighted  home  by  Venus,  Jupiter,  and 
Diana,  who  kindly  lend  us  their  light  after  the  sleepy  Apollo 
is  gone  to  bed.  The  road  which  we  frequent  is  raised  some- 
what above,  and  overlooks,  the  river,  affording  some  very  fine 
points  of  view  amongst  these  woody  mountains. 

"  Still,  we  know  no  one ;  we  speak  to  one  or  two  people  at 
the  Casino,  and  that  is  all.  We  live  in  our  studious  way,  go- 
ing on  with  Tasso,  whom  I  like,  but  who,  now  I  have  read 
more  than  half  his  poem,  I  do  not  know  that  I  like  so  well  as 
Ariosto.  Shelley  translated  the  Symposium  in  ten  days.  It 
is  a  most  beautiful  piece  of  writing.  I  think  you  will  be  de- 
lighted with  it.  It  is  true  that  in  many  particulars  it  shocks 
our  present  manners ;  but  no  one  can  be  a  reader  of  the  works 
of  antiquity  unless  they  can  transport  themselves  from  these 
to  other  times,  and  judge  not  by  our,  but  their,  morality. 

"  Shelley  is  tolerably  well  in  health ;  the  hot  weather  has 
done  him  good.  We  have  been  in  high  debate  —  nor  have 
we  come  to  any  conclusion  —  concerning  the  land  or  sea  jour- 
ney to  Naples.  We  have  been  thinking  that,  when  we  want 
to  go,  although  the  equinox  will  be  past,  yet  the  equinoctial 
winds  will  hardly  have  spent  themselves;  and  I  cannot  ex- 
press to  you  how  I  fear  a  storm  at  sea,  with  two  such  young 


ITALY.  115 

children  as  William  and  Clara.  Do  you  know  the  periods 
when  the  Mediterranean  is  troubled,  and  when  the  wintry 
halcyon  days  come  ?  However  it  may  be,  we  shall  see  you 
before  we  proceed  southward. 

"  We  have  been  reading  Eustace's  Tour  through  Italy.  I 
do  not  wonder  the  Italians  reprinted  it.  Among  other  select 
specimens  of  his  way  of  thinking,  he  says  that  the  Romans  did 
not  derive  their  arts  and  learning  from  the  Greeks;  that 
Italian  ladies  are  chaste,  and  the  lazzaroni  honest  and  indus- 
trious ;  and  that,  as  to  assassination  and  highway  robbery  in 
Italy,  it  is  all  a  calumny  —  no  such  things  were  ever  heard  of. 
Italy  was  the  garden  of  Eden,  and  all  the  Italians  Adams  and 
Eves,  until  the  blasts  of  hell  (i.  e.  the  French  —  for  by  that 
polite  name  he  designates  them)  came.  By  the  by,  an  Italian 
servant  stabbed  an  English  one  here,  it  was  thought  danger- 
ously at  first,  but  the  man  is  doing  better. 

"  I  have  scribbled  a  long  letter,  and  I  dare  say  you  have  long 
wished  to  be  at  the  end  of  it.  Well,  now  you  are ;  so,  my 
dear  Mrs.  Gisborne,  with- best  remembrances, 

"  Yours  obliged  and  affectionately, 

M  Mary  W.  Shelley." 

In  Mrs.  Shelley's  journal  of  this  year  are  recorded 
two  amusing  ghost  stories,  which  may  find  a  place  here, 
for  the  edification  of  believers  in  spectral  appearances:  — 

"  Tuesday,  October  20^.  —  The  Chevalier  Mengaldo  spends 
the  evening  at  the  Hoppners',  and  relates  several  ghost  stories 
—  two  that  occurred  to  himself. 

"  When  the  Chevalier  was  at  the  University,  and  very 
young,  on  returning  home  to  pass  the  vacation  he  heard  that 
the  inhabitants  of  the  town  had  been  frightened  by  the  mighty 
visitation  of  a  ghost,  who  traversed  the  town  from  one  end  to 
the  other ;  so  much  to  their  terror,  that  no  one  would  venture 
out  after  dark.  The  Chevalier  felt  a  great  curiosity  to  see 
the  ghost,  and  stationed  himself  at  the  window  of  a  house  of 


116  SHELLEY   MEMORIALS. 

one  of  bis  friends,  by  which  the  shadow  always  passed.  Twelve 
o'clock  struck ;  no  ghost  appeared.  One  ;  half-past  one.  The 
Chevalier  grew  sleepy,  and  determined  to  return  home.  The 
town  chiefly  consisted,  like  most  country  towns,  of  one  long 
street,  and  as  the  Chevalier,  on  his  road  home,  was  at  one  end 
of  it,  he  saw  at  the  other  something  white,  like  a  rabbit  or 
greyhound,  that  appeared  to  advance  towards  him.  He  per- 
ceived that  as  he  advanced  it  grew  larger  and  larger,  and  ap- 
peared to  take  a  human  form.  The  Chevalier  could  now  no 
longer  doubt  but  that  it  was  the  ghost,  and  felt  his  courage 
fail  him,  although  he  strove  to  master  it  as  well  as  he  could. 
The  figure,  as  it  approached,  grew  gigantic,  and  the  Cheva- 
lier crouched  behind  a  column  as  it  passed,  which  it  did  with 
enormous  footsteps.  As  it  passed,  it  appeared  all  dressed  in 
white ;  the  face  was  long  and  white,  and  its  hand  appeared  of 
itself  capable  of  covering  the  whole  body  of  Mengaldo. 

"  The  Chevalier,  when  he  was  in  the  army,  had  a  duel  with 
a  brother  officer,  and  wounded  him  in  the  arm.  He  was  very 
sorry  at  having  wounded  the  young  man,  and  attended  him 
during  its  cure ;  so  that  when  he  got  well  they  became  firm 
and  dear  friends.  Being  quartered,  I  think,  at  Milan,  the 
young  officer  fell  desperately  in  love  with  the  wife  of  a  musi- 
cian, who  disdained  his  passion.  The  young  man  became 
miserable,  and  Mengaldo  continually  advised  him  to  ask  leave 
of  absence  —  to  hunt,  to  pay  a  visit,  and  in  some  way  to  divert 
fiis  passion.  One  evening  the  young  man  came  to  Mengaldo, 
and  said,  '  Well,  I  have  asked  leave  of  absence,  and  am  to 
have  it  early  to-morrow  morning ;  so  lend  me  your  fowling- 
piece  and  cartridges,  for  I  shall  go  to  hunt  for  a  fortnight.' 
Mengaldo  gave  it  him;  and  among  his  bird-shot  were  some 
bullets,  put  there  for  safety,  in  case,  while  hunting,  he  should 
be  attacked  by  a  wolf,  &c. 

"  The  young  man  said  \  '  Tell  the  lady  1  love  that  our  con- 
versation has  been  chiefly  about  her  to-night,  and  that  her 
name  was  the  last  I  spoke.'  •  Yes,  yes,'  said  Mengaldo,  '  I  will 
?ay  anything  you  please ;  but  do  not  talk  of  her  any  more  — 


ITALY.  117 

you  must  forget  her.'  On  going  away  the  young  man  em- 
braced Mengaldo  warmly ;  but  the  latter  saw  nothing  more  in 
it  than  his  affection,  combined  with  melancholy  in  separating 
himself  from  his  mistress. 

"  When  Mengaldo  was  on  guard  that  night,  he  heard  the 
report  of  a  gun.  He  was  first  troubled  and  agitated  by  it,  but 
afterwards  thought  no  more  of  it,  and  when  relieved  from 
guard  went  to  bed,  although  he  passed  a  restless  and  sleepless 
night.  In  the  morning  early,  some  one  knocked  at  the  door. 
The  man  said  he  had  got  the  young  officer's  leave  of  absence, 
and  had  taken  it  to  his  house.  A  servant  had  opened  the 
door,  and  he  had  gone  up  stairs ;  but  the  officer's  room-door 
was  locked,  and  no  one  answered  to  his  knocking ;  but  some- 
thing oozed  through  under  the  door  that  appeared  like  blood. 
Mengaldo  was  dreadfully  terrified ;  he  hurried  to  his  friend's 
house,  burst  open  the  door,  and  found  hiin  stretched  on  the 
ground.  He  had  blown  out  his  brains,  and  his  head  and 
brains  were  scattered  about  the  room,  so  that  no  part  of  the 
head  remained  on  the  shoulders.  Mengaldo  was  grieved  and 
shocked,  and  had  a  fever  in  consequence,  which  lasted  some 
days.  When  he  was  well,  he  got  leave  of  absence,  and  went 
into  the  country  to  try  to  divert  his  mind. 

"  One  evening  at  moonlight,  he  was  returning  home  from  a 
walk,  and  passing  through  a  lane  with  a  hedge  on  both  sides, 
so  high  that  he  could  not  see  over  it.  As  he  walked-  along,  he 
heard  a  rustling  in  the  bushes  beside  him,  and  the  figure  of  his 
friend  issued  from  the  hedge  and  stood  before  him,  as  he  had 
seen  him  after  his  death,  without  his  head.  This  figure  he 
saw  many  times  afterwards,  always  in  the  same  place.  It  was 
impalpable  to  the  touch,  and  never  spoke,  although  Mengaldo 
often  addressed  it.  Once  he  took  another  person  with  him. 
The  same  rustling  was  heard ;  the  same  shadow  stepped  forth ; 
his  companion  was  dreadfully  terrified ;  he  tried  to  cry,  but 
his  voice  failed  him,  and  he  ran  off  as  quickly  as  he  could." 

Under  date   "November    13th,    1818,"   Godwin    thus 


118  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

gossips  with  Shelley  on  the  events  of  the  day,  and  on 
his  own  projects:  — 

"  I  am  at  present  deeply  engaged  upon  Malthus.  It  goes 
on  slowly,  but  so  much  the  more  surely  (not  the  more  surely 
as  to  its  being  ever  finished,  but  the  more  surely)  as  to  its 
being  finally 

'  Fortis  et  in  seipso  totus  teres  atque  rotundus, 
Externi  ne  quid  valeat  per  lacve  morari, 
In  quern  maneat  semper  fortuna.' 

I  have  just  discovered  a  train  of  reasoning  which,  if  I  am  not 
mistaken,  will  utterly  and  forever  demolish  his  geometrical 
ratio. 

■*F  T^  ?F  TJC  ?|c  $(£  ?fc 

"  You  have  heard,  of  course,  of  the  melancholy  suicide  of 
Sir  Samuel  llomilly.  I  do  not  remember  any  event  that  has 
produced  so  deep  a  public  sensation.  lie  was  undoubtedly  an 
admirable  man ;  and  I  do  not  know  any  one  whose  parlia- 
mentary existence  was  so  completely  devoted  to  public  good. 

"  You  are  also,  I  suppose,  informed  of  the  withdrawing  the 
army  of  occupation  from  France.  Lord  Liverpool,  we  are 
told,  has  in  consequence  insisted  upon  a  large  reduction  of  our 
peace  establishment,  and  made  this  measure  the  sine  qua  non 
of  his  continuing  in  office.  This  is  supposed  to  be  owing  to 
the  turn  matters  took  in  the  General  Election.  So  far  we  have 
really  made  some  advance  in  the  scale  of  improvement. 

"  The  last  letters  I  received  from  Mary  are  of  the  date  of 
August  3d  and  October  1st.  In  the  October  letter,  she  ap- 
parently labored  under  great  depression  of  spirits,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  loss  of  her  infant.  I  hope  she  has  by  this  time 
recovered  her  accustomed  tone,  and  is  happy. 

"  Very  affectionately  yours, 

"  William  Godwin." 


italy.  119 

from  mrs.  shelley  to  mrs.  gisborne. 

"Naples,  Dec.  1818. 
"  My  dear  Mrs.  Gisborne, 

"  I  hasten  to  answer  your  kind  letter  as  soon  as  we  are 
a  little  recovered  from  the  fatigue  of  our  long  journey,  al- 
though I  still  feel  wearied  and  overcome  by  it,  —  so  you  must 
expect  a  very  stupid  letter.  We  set  out  from  Este  the  day 
after  I  wrote  to  you.  We  remained  one  day  at  Ferrara  and 
two  at  Bologna,  looking  at  the  memorials  preserved  of  Tasso 
and  Ariosto  in  the  former  town,  and  at  the  most  exquisite  pic- 
tures in  the  latter.  Afterwards,  we  proceeded  along  the  coast 
road  by  Rimini,  Fano,  Fossombrone,  &c.  We  saw  the  divine 
waterfall,  Terni,  and  arrived  safely  at  Rome.  We  performed 
this  journey  with  our  own  horses,  with  Paolo  to  drive  us, 
which  we  found  a  very  economical,  but  a  very  disagreeable 
Avay ;  so  we  shall  not  attempt  it  again.  To  you,  who  have 
seen  Rome,  I  need  not  say  how  enchanted  we  were  with  the 
first  view  of  Rome  and  its  antiquities.  One  drawback  they 
have  at  present,  which  I  hope  will  be  fully  compensated  for  in 
the  future.  The  ruins  are  filled  with  galley-slaves  at  work. 
They  are  propping  the  Coliseum,  and  making  very  deep  ex- 
cavations in  the  Forum.  We  remained  a  week  at  Rome,  and 
our  fears  for  the  journey  to  Naples  were  entirely  removed. 
They  said  here  that  there  had  not  been  a  robbery  on  the  road 
for  eight  months.  This  we  found  afterwards  to  be  an  exag- 
geration ;  but  it  tranquillized  us  so  much  that  Shelley  went  on 
first,  to  secure  us  lodgings,  and  we  followed  a  day  or  two  after. 
We  found  the  road  guarded,  and  the  only  part  of  the  road 
where  there  was  any  talk  of  fear  was  between  Terracina  and 
Fondi,  when  it  was  not  thought  desirable  we  should  set  out 
from  the  former  place  before  daylight.  Shelley  travelled  with 
a  Lombard  merchant  and  a  Neapolitan  priest.  He  remained 
only  two  nights  on  the  road,  and  he  went  veterino ;  so  you 
may  guess  he  had  to  travel  early  and  late.      The  priest,  .a 


120  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

great,  strong,  muscular  fellow,  was  almost  in  convulsions  with 
fear,  to  travel  before  daylight  along  the  Pontine  marshes. 
There  was  talk  of  two  bishops  murdered,  and  that  touched 
him  nearly.  The  robbers  spare  foreigners,  but  never  Neapol- 
itan men,  if  they  are  young  and  strong ;  so  he  was  the  worst 
off  of  the  party.  The  merchant  did  not  feel  very  comforta- 
ble, and  they  were  both  surprised  at  Shelley's  quietness.  That 
quiet  was  disturbed,  however,  between  Capua  and  Naples,  by 
an  assassination  committed  in  broad  daylight  before  their  eyes. 
A  young  man  ran  out  of  a  shop  on  the  road,  followed  by  a 
woman  armed  with  a  great  stick  and  a  man  with  a  great 
knife.  The  man  overtook  him,  and  stabbed  him  in  the  nape 
of  the  neck,  so  that  he  fell  down  instantly,  stone  dead.  The 
fearful  priest  laughed  heartily  at  Shelley's  horror  on  the  occa- 
sion. 

"  Well,  we  are  now  settled  in  comfortable  lodgings,  which 
Shelley  took  for  three  loujs  a  week,  opposite  the  Royal  Gar- 
dens—  you  no  doubt  remember  the  situation.  We  have  a  full 
view  of  the  bay  from  our  windows ;  so  I  think  we  are  well  off. 
As  yet,  we  have  seen  nothing ;  but  we  shall  soon  make  some 
excursions  in  the  environs. 

"  Ever  yours  affectionately, 

"Mary  W.  Shelley." 


PROMETHEUS    UNBOUND  121 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE    "  CENCI." 

The  early  part  of  the  year  1819  was  spent  by  the 
Shelleys  at  Naples,  and  was  diversified  by  excursions  to 
Pactum,  Pompeii,  Herculaneum,  Vesuvius,  Baiae,  Lago 
d'Agnano,  &c. ;  but  in  March  they  returned  to  Rome, 
where  every  day  was  occupied  in  explorations  and  visits, 
in  wanderings  among  the  sublime  ruins  of  antiquity,  and 
in  meditations  on  the  past.  Their  happiness,  however, 
was  soon  interrupted  by  the  death,  in  the  early  summer, 
of  their  son  William  —  at  that  time  their  only  surviving 
child.  Shelley  suffered  the  deepest  anguish  from  this 
event ;  and  the  grief  of  Mrs.  Shelley  was  no  less.  The 
child  was  buried  in  the  English  cemetery ;  in  allusion  to 
which  place  Shelley  wrote  :  —  "  This  spot  is  the  reposi- 
tory of  a  sacred  loss,  of  which  the  yearnings  of  a  parent's 
heart  are  now  prophetic  ;  he  is  rendered  immortal  by 
love,  as  his  memory  is  by  death.  My  beloved  child  lies 
buried  here.  I  envy  death  the  body  far  less  than  the 
oppressors  the  minds  of  those  whom  they  have  torn  from 
me.  The  one  can  only  kill  the  body  ;  the  other  crushes 
the  affections." 


]22  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

Harping  on  the  same  mournful  string,  he  thus  ad- 
dresses his  dead  child  in  verse  :  — 

"  My  lost  William,  thou  in  whom 

Some  bright  spirit  lived,  and  did 
That  decaying  robe  consume 

Which  its  lustre  faintly  hid, 
Here  its  ashes  find  a  tomb ; 

But  beneath  this  pyramid 
Thou  art  not.     If  a  thing  divine, 
Like  thee,  can  die,  thy  funeral  shrine 
Is  thy  mother's  grief  and  mine." 

In  the  spring  of  1819,  Shelley  wrote  one  of  the 
greatest  of  his  works,  the  Prometheus  Unbound.  The 
spot  he  selected  for  his  study  was  that  occupied  by  the 
ruined  baths  of  Caracalla  —  a  maze  of  gigantic  chambers, 
open  to  the  sky,  and  carpeted  with  verdure  ;  of  shattered 
towers,  wreathed  with  a  drapery  of  glorious  weeds  and 
trailing  ivy,  with  which  the  stonework  has  become  al- 
most incorporated;  of  heaped  masses  of  masonry,  out  of 
which  spring  groves  of  flowering  shrubs ;  of  broken 
arches,  winding  staircases,  and  hidden  nooks  for  solitary 
thought.  Here  he  worked  with  wonderful  assiduity,  and 
very  soon  completed  the  drama  in  three  acts  ;  the  fourth 
was  added  several  months  after,  when  the  poet  was  at 
Florence.  All  attentive  readers  of  this  wonderful  work 
will  agree  with  Mrs.  Shelley  in  thinking  that  the  lucid 
atmosphere  of  Rome,  the  exquisite  vegetation  of  the  sur- 
rounding wastes,  and  the  sublime  objects  of  art,  whether 
of  antiquity  or  of  later  times,  which  met  his  eyes  in  every 
direction,  helped  the  sensitive  imagination  of  Shelley  to 
conceive  those  superhuman  visions  of  loveliness  and  awful 


FBOMKTHKUS    UNBOUND.  123 

might  which  throng  tlic  scenes  of  Prometheus  Unbound. 
But  only  his  own  subtle,  and  almost  instinctive,  appre- 
hension of  metaphysical  analogies  could  have  enabled 
him  to  endow  his  ideal  characters  with  a  language  proper 
to  the  abstract  ideas  which  they  typify.  This  is  the  in- 
tuition of  genius,  which  can  not  only  create  an  imaginary 
world,  but  can  govern  it  by  laws  in  harmony  with  them- 
selves and  with  that  which  they  control.  The  personi- 
fications of  Shelley's  mythological  drama  are  not  the 
vague  idealisms  of  a  young  poet  seeking  for  effect ;  they 
have  a  deep  psychological  meaning.  The  poetry  which 
they  utter  is  like  the  language  of  beings  wakening,  in  the 
fresh  dawn  of  the  world,  to  the  mystery  of  their  own 
emotions  arid  the  miraculous  loveliness  of  the  universe. 
We  seem  to  behold  the  elemental  splendor  of  things  dis- 
arrayed of  that  indifference  which  springs  from  our 
superficial  familiarity,  and  from  the  deadening  effect  of 
our  conventional  existence. 

The  drama,  though  written  in  1819,  was  not  published 
till  1820. 

Several  of  Shelley's  letters  about  this  period  have 
reference  to  a  project,  which  he  set  on  foot,  of  a  steam- 
boat to  ply  between  Marseilles  and  Leghorn  ;  the  con- 
struction of  this  boat  was  to  be  managed  by  Mr.  Reveley, 
the  son  of  Mrs.  Gisborne  by  a  former  marriage,  to  whom 
reference  has  already  been  made,  and  who  was  an  en- 
gineer. The  pecuniary  profit  was  to  belong  solely  to 
Mr.  Reveley  ;  but  Shelley  took  a  fervent  interest  in  the 
undertaking,  for  its  own  sake.  It  was  not  puerile  vanity, 
but  the   nobler  feeling  of  honest  pride,  that  made  him 


124  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

enjoy  the  idea  of  being  the  first  to  introduce  steam 
navigation  into  the  Gulf  of  Lyons,  and  to  glory  in  the 
consciousness  of  being  in  this  manner  useful  to  his 
fellow-creatures.  Unfortunately,  he  was  condemned  to 
experience  a  failure.  The  prospects  and  views  of  his 
friends  drew  them  to  England,  and  the  boat  and  engine 
were  abandoned.  Shelley  was  deeply  disappointed 
yet  it  will  be  seen  how  generously  he  exculpates  his 
friends  to  themselves,  and  relieves  them  from  the  regret 
they  might  naturally  feel  at  having  thus  wasted  his 
money  and  disappointed  his  desires. 

FROM    MRS.    SHELLEY   TO    MRS.    GISBORNE. 

"  Home,  Monday,  April  2Gth,  1819. 
"My  dear  Mrs.  Gisbornk, 

"  We  already  begin  to  feel,  or  think  we  feel,  the  effects  of 
the  Roman  air,  producing  cold,  depression,  and  even  fever,  to 
the  feeblest  of  our  party  ;  so  we  emigrate  a  month  earlier  than 
we  intended,  and  on  the  7th  of  May  leave  this  delightful  city 
for  the  Bay  of  Naples,  intending,  if  possible,  to  settle  for  some 
months  at  Castel  del  Mare.  The  physicians  prognosticate 
good  to  Shelley  from  a  Neapolitan  summer.  He  has  been 
very  unwell  lately,  and  is  very  far  from  well  now ;  but  I  hope 
that  he  is  getting  up  again. 

"  Yesterday  evening,  I  met  at  a  conversazione  the  true 
model  of  Biddy  Fudge's  lover — ail  Englishman  with  'the 
dear  Corsair  expression,  half  savage,  half  soft,'  with  the  beauti- 
ful mixture  of  *  Abelard  and  old  Blucher,'  and  his  forehead 
4  rather  bald,  but  so  Avarlike,'  and  his  moustaches,  on  which 
the  lamp  shone  with  a  fine  effect.  When  I  heard  his  name 
called  Signor  Colonello,  I  could  not  restrain  a  smile,  which 
nearly  degenerated  into  laughter  when  1  thought  we  had  Col- 
onel Calicot  in   Uome.      Presently   he  began,   in   very  good 


PROMETHEUS    UNBOUND.  125 

Italian,  which,  though  Englishly  pronounced,  [was]  yet  better 
spoken  than  any  other  Englishman  that  I  have  heard,  to  give 
an  account  of  his  warlike  feats,  and  how  at  Lisbon  he  had  put 
to  flight  thirty  well-armed  and  well-mounted  robbers  (he  on 
foot),  with  two  pistols  that  never  missed  their  aim.  There 
can  be  but  one  such  man  in  the  world,  as  you  will  be  con- 
vinced when  I  tell  you  that,  while  I  was  admiring  his  extra- 
ordinary prowess,  C whispered  to   me,   "  It  is  Colonel 

F h." 

"  You  asked  me  to  tell  you  what  I  had  heard  of  him  at 
Venice.  Only  one  or  two  shabby  tricks  too  long  for  a  letter ; 
and  that  an  officer  who  served  in  Spain,  of  the  same  regiment 
to  which  he  pretends  to  belong,  vows  that  there  was  no  Colo- 
nel F h  there.     Report  says  that  he  is  a  parson,  and  Lord 

B.'s  nickname  for  his  particular  friend  is  the  Reverend  Colonel 
F h. 

"  AVe  have  been  very  gay  in  Rome,  as  I  dare  say  you  have 
heard,  with  the  visit  of  the  Emperor  of  Austria,  who,  they 
whisper,  -wishes  to  take  the  Roman  States  into  the  keeping  of 
the  Holy  Roman  Empire  ;  this  would  be  a  fall  (to  say  the 
least  of  it)  from  nothingness  to  hell.  There  was  a  feast  given 
at  the  Capitol.  The  three  palaces  were  joined  by  a  gallery, 
and  the  whole  hung  with  silk,  and  illuminated  in  the  most 
magnificent  manner ;  and  the  dying  Gladiator,  surrounded  by 
his  Apollos  and  Venuses,  shone  forth  very  beautifully.  There 
were  very  fine  fireworks,  and  a  supper  not  at  all  in  the  Italian 
taste,  for  there  was  an  abundance  which  did  honor  to  the  old 
Cardinal  who  superintended  the  fete.  Every  one  was  pleased, 
and  the  Romans  in  ecstacies.  I  have  not  room  to  tell  you  how 
gracefully  the  old  venerable  Pope  fulfilled  the  church  cere- 
monies, or  how  surprised  and  delighted  we  were  with  the 
lighting  up  of  St.  Peter's ;  all  that  must  serve  for  gossip  when 
we  meet.  When  will  that  be  ?  We  saw  nobody  at  Naples  ; 
but  we  see  a  few  people  here.  The  Italian  character  does  not 
improve  upon  us.  By  the  by,  we  have  given  an  introduction 
for  you  (which  I  do  not  think  will  be  presented)  to  a  Roman 


12G  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

lady,  a  painter  and  authoress,  very  old,  very  miserly,  and  very 
mean  —  perhaps  you  know  her.  She  says  that  she  thinks  she 
remembers  your  name. 

M I  am  in  better  health  and  spirits  than  when  I  last  wrote, 
and  make  no  ceremony  of  writing  without  receiving  answers. 

Shelley  and  C desire  best  remembrances. 

"  AlFeetionately  yours, 

"  M.  W.  SlIKLLEY." 

The  ardor  of  intellectual  creation  must  at  this  time 
have  possessed  Shelley  to  an  extraordinary  degree. 
No  sooner  had  he  finished  the  first  three  acts  of  Pro- 
metheus Unbound,  than  he  began  the  Cenci ;  and,  as  the 
former  work  was  written  during  the  spring,  and  the  date 
of  the  dedication  of  the  latter  is  May  29th,  the  composi- 
tion of  the  tragedy  must  have  been  pushed  forward  with 
great  rapidity,  though  the  work  was  not  completed  till  a 
month  or  two  after  the  date  indicated.  The  dedication 
is  to  Leigh  Hunt,  and  shows  the  high  regard  which  Shel- 
ley entertained  for  the  friend  who,  perhaps  above  all 
others,  understood  his  nature  and  his  genius.  The  or- 
igin of  the  tragedy  is  to  be  found  in  an  old  manuscript 
account  of  the  story  of  the  Cenci  which  a  friend  put  into 
Shelley's  hands  while  he  was  at  Rome,  and  of  which  a 
translation  is  published  by  Mrs.  Shelley  in  her  edition 
of  the  poems.  The  poet's  interest  in  the  unhappy  victim, 
Beatrice,  was  increased  by  seeing  her  portraits  in  the 
Colonna  and  Doria  Palaces  (the  former  by  Guido)  ;  and 
he  at  first  wished  Mrs.  Shelley  to  make  the  story  the 
subject  of  a  play  by  herself,  as  he  conceived  that  she 
possessed  a  dramatic  faculty,  and  that  he  had  none  what- 
ever, —  for   the  Prometheus    Unbound  is  clearly  not  a 


PROMETHEUS    UNBOUND.  127 

drama  in  the  ordinary  sense  of  the  word,  but  a  poem, 
taking  the  form  of  action.  He  had  already  made  one  or 
two  attempts  of  a  more  strictly  dramatic  kind,  but  had 
thrown  them  aside  in  disgust ;  nevertheless,  he  was  per- 
suaded by  Mrs.  Shelley  to  undertake  the  tragedy  of  the 
Cenci,  and  he  frequently  consulted  her  during  its  prog- 
ress (the  only  time  he  submitted  to  her  judgment  any 
of  his  writings  while  they  were  being  composed),  and 
talked  over  the  arrangement  of  the  scenes  from  day  to 
day. 

While  the  work  proceeded,  the  illness  and  death  of 
the  little  boy,  William,  took  place  —  an  affliction  which 
drove  the  broken-hearted  parents  to  the  neighborhood  of 
Leghorn,  where  they  took  a  small  house  (Villa  Valso- 
vano),  about  half-way  between  the  city  and  Monte  Nero. 
"Our  villa,"  says  Mrs.  Shelley,  "was  situated  in  the 
midst  of  a  podere ;  the  peasants  sang  as  they  worked 
beneath  our  window  during  the  heats  of  a  very  hot  sum- 
mer, and  in  the  evening  the  water-wheel  creaked  as  the 
process  of  irrigation  went  on,  and  the  fire-flies  flashed 
from  among  the  myrtle  hedges.  Nature  was  bright,  sun- 
shiny, and  cheerful,  or  diversified  by  storms  of  a  majestic 
terror,  such  as  we  had  never  before  witnessed."  A  small 
terrace,  roofed  and  glazed,  at  the  top  of  the  house,  was 
converted  by  Shelley  into  a  study;  and  here  he  could 
bask  in  the  light  and  heat  of  an  Italian  summer  (never 
too  intense  for  him),  or  watch  the  processional  march  of 
the  tempests  over  the  near  ocean.  The  greater  part  of 
the  Cenci  was  written  in  this  retreat. 

Wishing  to  see  his  drama  acted  at  Covent  Garden, 


128  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

with  Miss  O'Neil  as  the  heroine,  Shelley  wrote  to  a 
friend  in  London  (Mr.  Peacock),  requesting  that  he 
would  open  negotiations  with  the  manager.  In  address- 
ing Mr.  Peacock,  he  says  of  the  newly-completed  work 
that  his  "  principal  doubt  as  to  whether  it  would  succeed 
as  an  acting  play  hangs  entirely  "  on  the  frightful  nature 
of  the  story ;  but  he  thinks  that  the  delicacy  with  which 
he  has  treated  the  facts  will  remove  any  objection.  It 
did  not  do  so,  however,  for  the  manager  declined  to  ac- 
cept the  work,  on  the  ground  anticipated  by  its  author ; 
yet,  at  the  same  time,  he  expressed  his  desire  that  the 
writer  (whose  name  was  not  mentioned  to  him*)  would 
compose  a  play  on  some  other  subject,  adding  that  he 
would  gladly  produce  it.  In  the  same  letter,  Shelley 
observes :  —  "Iai  *ngly  interested  ii 

am  strongly  inclined  to  tin  it  present,  fou 

ing  my  hopes  on  this,  that,  as  a  composition,  it  is  cer- 
tainly not  inferior  to  any  of  the  modern  plays  that  have 
been  acted,  with  the  exception  of  Remorse ;  that  the  in- 
terest of  the  plot  is  incredibly  greater  and  more  real; 
and  that  there  is  nothing  but  what  the  multitude  are  con- 
tented to  believe  that  they  can  understand,  either  in 
imagery,  opinion,  or  sentiment."  With  respect  to  Miss 
O'Neil  in  the  character  of  Beatrice,  Shelley  exclaims  — 
"  God  forbid  that  I  should  see  her  play  it !  It  would 
tear  my  nerves  to  pieces." 

*  The  reason  for  this  secrecy  was  a  fear  on  the  part  of  Shelley  that, 
if  the  play  were  produced  as  his,  his  sister-in-law  would  hire  people 
to  hoot  it  off  the  sta-'e. 


PBO  UNBOUND.  129 

In  another  letter,  the  poet  writes:  —  "I  have  been 
cautious  to  avoid  the  introducing  faults  of  youthful  com- 
position ;  diffuseness,  a  profusion  of  inapplicable  imagery, 
vagueness,  generality,  and,  as  Hamlet  says,  '  words, 
words/  "  The  play  is,  in  truth,  a  wonderful  instance  of 
mature  judgment  and  self-control  —  the  more  extraor- 
dinary when  we  reflect  that  the  author  was  barely 
seven-and-twenty  when  he  wrote  it,  and  that  the  peculiar 
tendency  of  his  genius  was  towards  an  excessive  afflu- 
ence of  imagination  and  fancy,  and  the  embodiment  of 
thoughts  the  most  evanescent  and  impalpable  in  forms 
the  most  gorgeous  and  transcendent.  The  Cenci  occupies 
entirely  different  ground.  Everywhere  we  feel  the  earth 
under  our  feet.     The  characters  are  rot  personifications 

indeed,  a  language  exalted  by  passion,  but,  nevertheless, 
a  language  which  has  its  roots  in  nature,  and  draws  u& 
sustenance  from  life.  Awful  are  those  revelations  of  the 
monstrous  heart  of  the  old  man ;  tremendous  in  their 
hopeless  agony  and  desolation  those  staggerings  of  the 
mind  of  Beatrice  on  the  brink  of  madness ;  angelical,  in 
its  serene  redemption  from  transitory  error,  that  spirit 
of  resignation  and  immortal  love  which  rises,  towards  the 
close  of  the  play,  out  of  the  hell  of  the  earlier  parts, 
and  finds  its  most  lovely  expression  in  the  final  words. 
er  did  poet  more  exquisitely  show  the  triumph  of 
Good  over  Evil  than  Shelley  has  done  in  that  hushed 
and  sacred  ending.  It  is  a  voice  out  of  the  very  depths 
of  the  suffering  patience  of  humanity.  But,  indeed, 
the  play  throughout  comes  nearer  to   Shakspeare   than 

6* 


130  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

any  other  writer  has  approached  since  Shakspeare's 
time. 

Strange  to  say,  however,  Shelley,  though  frequently 
urged  by  his  friends,  would  never  again  write  in  the 
same  manner,  asserting  that  his  natural  tastes  lay  in  a 
totally  different  direction. 

The  first  edition  of  the  Cenct  was  printed  in  Italy,  and 
sent  to  London  for  publication.  It  was  received  with  a 
degree  of  enthusiasm  to  which  no  other  work  of  Shelley 
attained  during  his  life  ;  and  in  1821  a  second  edition 
was  printed  in  England.  In  a  letter  to  Mr.  Oilier,  his 
publisher,  dated  "  Leghorn,  September  6th,  1819,"  Shelley 
alludes  both  to  Prometheus  Unbound  and  to  the  Cenci. 


from  shelley  to  mr.  ollier. 

"  Dear  Sir, 

"  I  received  your  packet  with  Hunt's  picture  about  a 
fortnight  ago  ;  and  your  letter  with  Nos.  1,  2,  and  3  yesterday, 
but  not  No.  4,  which  is  probably  lost  or  mislaid,  through  the 
extreme  irregularity  of  the  Italian  post. 

"  The  ill  account  you  give  of  the  success  of  my  poetical 
attempts,  sufficiently  accounts  for  your  silence ;  but  I  believe 
that  the  truth  is,  I  write  less  for  the  public  than  for  myself. 
Considering  that  perhaps  the  parcel  will  be  another  year  on 
its  voyage,  I  rather  wish,  if  this  letter  arrives  in  time,  that  you 
would  send  the  Quarterly's  article  by  the  post,  and  the  rest  of 
the  Review  in  the  parcel.  Of  course,  it  gives  me  a  certain 
degree  of  pleasure  to  know  that  any  one  likes  my  writings ; 
but  it  is  objection  and  enmity  alone  that  rouses  my  curiosity. 
My  Prometheus,  which  has  been  long  finished,  is  now  being 
transcribed,  and  will  soon  be  forwarded  to  you  for  publication. 
It  is,  in  my  judgment,  of  a  higher  character  than  anything  I 


PROMETHEUS    UNBOUND.  lol 

have  yet  attempted,  and  is  perhaps  less  an  imitation  of  any- 
thing that  has  gone  before  it.  I  shall  also  send  you  another 
work,  calculated  to  produce  a  very  popular  effect,  and  totally 
in  a  different  style  from  anything  I  have  yet  composed.  This 
will  be  sent  already  printed.  The  Prometheus  you  will  be  so 
good  as  to  print  as  usual 

"  In  the  Rosalind  and  Helen,  I  see  there  are  some  few 
eiTors,  which  are  so  much  the  worse  because  they  are  errors 
in  the  sense.  If  there  should  be  any  danger  of  a  second  edi- 
tion, I  will  correct  them. 

"  I  have  read  your  Altham,  anol  Keats's  poem  and  Lamb's 
works.  For  the  second  in  this  list,  much  praise  is  due  to  me 
for  having  read  it,  the  author's  intention  appearing  to  be  that 
no  person  should  possibly  get  to  the  end  of  it.  Yet  it  is  full 
of  some  of  the  highest  and  the  finest  gleams  of  poetry ;  indeed, 
everything  seems  to  be  viewed  by  the  mind  of  a  poet  which  is 
described  in  it.  I  think,  if  he  had  printed  about  fifty  pages  of 
fragments  from  it,  I  should  have  been  led  to  admire  Keats  as  a 
poet  more  than  I  ought,  of  which  there  is  now  no  danger.  In 
Altham  you  have  surprised  and  delighted  me.  It  is  a  natural 
story,  most  unaffectedly  told ;  and,  what  is  more,  told  in  a 
strain  of  very  pure  and  powerful  English,  which  is  a  very  rare 
merit.  You  seem  to  have  studied  our  language  to  some  pur- 
pose ;  but  I  suppose  I  ought  to  have  waited  for  Inesilla. 

"  The  same  day  that  your  letter  came,  came  the  news  of  the 
Manchester  work,  and  the  torrent  of  my  indignation  has  not 
yet  done  boiling  in  my  veins.  I  wait  anxiously  to  hear  how 
the  country  will  express  its  sense  of  this  bloody,  murderous  op- 
pression of  its  destroyers.  '  Something  must  be  done.  What, 
yet  I  know  not.'  * 

"  In  your  parcel  (which  I  pray  you  to  send  in  some  safe 
manner,  forwarding  to  me  the  bill  of  lading,  &c,  in  a  regular 
mercantile  way,  so  that  my  parcel  may  come  in  six  weeks, 
not  twelve  months)  send  me  Jones's  Greek  Grammar  and  some 
sealing  wax. 

*  A  quotation  from  the  Cenci.  —  Ed. 


132  SHELLEY   MEMORIALS. 

"  Whenever  I  publish,  send  copies  of  my  books  to  the  follow- 
ing people  from  me":  — 

"  Mr.  Hunt,  Mr.  Keats, 

"  Mr.  Godwin,  Mr.  Thomas  Moore, 

"Mr.  Hogg,  Mr.  Horace  Smith, 

"  Mr.  Peacock,  Lord  Byron  (at  Murray's). 

"  Yours,  obliged  and  faithful, 

"  Percy  B.  Shelley." 

The  reference  to  Keats  in  this  letter  is  curious,  con- 
sidering the  high  admiration  which  Shelley  afterwards 
felt  for  his  writings.  But  the  truth  is  that  Keats's  first 
volume  (which  is  the  book  here  alluded  to,)  contained  a 
great  deal  of  what  was  raw,  youthful,  and  wreak,  together 
with  passages  reflecting,  as  Shelley  rightly  says,  "the 
highest  and  the  finest  gleams  of  poetry  "  —  passages  pro- 
phetic of  the  future  achievements  of  the  young  genius. 

Another  letter  to  Mr.  Oilier  contains  further  allusion 
to  the  Cenci,  and  some  scornful  remarks  on  Quarterly 
Review  slanders  :  — 

"Florence,  Oct  loth,  1819. 
"  Dear  Sir, 

"  The  droll  remarks  of  the  Quarterly,  and  Hunt's  kind 
defence,  arrived  as  safe  as  such  poison,  and  safer  than  such  an 
antidote,  usually  do. 

"  I  am  on  the  point  of  sending  to  you  250  copies  of  a  work 
which  I  have  printed  in  Italy  ;  which  you  will  have  to  pay 
four  or  five  pounds  duty  upon,  on  my  account.  Hunt  will  tell 
you  the  kind  of  thing  it  is,  and  in  the  course  of  the  winter  I 
shall  send  directions  for  its  publication,  until  the  arrival  of 
whieh  directions,  1  request  that  you  would  have  the  kindness  not 
to  open  the  box,  or,  if  by  necessity,  it  is  opened,  to  abstain  from 
observing  yourself,  or  permitting  others  to  observe,  what  it  con~ 


PROMETHEUS    UNBOUND.  133 

tains*  I  trust  this  confidently  to  you,  it  being  of  conse- 
quence. Meanwhile,  assure  yourself  that  this  work  has  no 
reference,  direct  or  indirect,  to  politics,  or  religion,  or  personal 
satire,  and  that  this  precaution  is  merely  literary. 

"  The  Prometheus,  a  poem  in  my  best  style,  whatever  that 
may  amount  to,  will  arrive  with  it,  but  in  MS.,  which  you  can 
print  and  publish  in  the  season.  It  is  the  most  perfect  of  my 
productions. 

"  Southey  wrote  the  article  in  question,  I  am  well  aware. 
Observe  the  impudence  of  the  man  in  speaking  of  himself. 
The  only  remark  worth  notice  in  this  piece  is  the  assertion 
that  I  imitate  Wordsworth.  It  may  as  well  be  said  that  Lord 
Byron  imitates  Wordsworth,  or  that  Wordsworth  imitates  Lord 
Byron,  both  being  great  poets,  and  deriving  from  the  new 
springs  of  thought  and  feeling,  which  the  great  events  of  our 
age  have  exposed  to  view,  a  similar  tone  of  sentiment,  im- 
agery, and  expression.  A  certain  similarity  all  the  best  writ- 
ers of  any  particular  age  inevitably  are  marked  with,  from 
the  spirit  of  that  age  acting  on  all.  This  I  had  explained  in 
my  Preface,  which  the  writer  was  too  disingenuous  to  advert 
to.  As  to  the  other  trash,  and  particularly  that  lame  attack 
on  my  personal  character,  which  was  meant  so  ill,  and  which 
I  am  not  the  man  to  feel,  'tis  all  nothing.  I  am  glad,  with 
respect  to  that  part  of  it  which  alludes  to  Hunt,  that  it  should 
so  have  happened  that  I  dedicate,  as  you  will  see,  a  work 
which  has  all  the  capacities  for  being  popular  to  that  excel- 
lent person.  I  was  amused,  too,  with  the  finale  ;  it  is  like  the 
end  of  the  first  act  of  an  opera,  when  that  tremendous  con- 
cordant discord  sets  up  from  the  orchestra,  and  everybody 
talks  and  sings  at  once.  It  describes  the  result  of  my  battle 
with  their  Omnipotent  God  ;  his  pulling  me  under  the  sea  by 
the  hair  of  my  head,  like  Pharaoh ;  my  calling  out  like  the 
devil  who  was  game  to  the  last ;  swearing  and  cursing  in  all 
comic  and  horrid  oaths,  like  a  French  postilion  on  Mount 
Ccnis  ;  entreating  everybody  to  drown  themselves ;  pretend- 

*  The  italics  are  Shelley's  own.  —  Ed, 


13  4  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

ing  not  to  be  drowned  myself  when   I  am  drowned  ;  and, 
lastly,  being  drowned.* 

"  You  would  do  me  a  particular  kindness  if  you  would  call 
on  Hunt,  and  ask  him  when  my  parcel  went,  the  name  of  the 
ship,  and  the  name  of  the  captain,  and  whether  he  has  any  bill 
of  lading,  which,  if  he  has,  you  would  oblige  me  by  sending, 
together  with  the  rest  of  the  information,  by  return  of  post, 
addressed  to  the  Post-Office,  Florence. 

"  Yours  very  sincerely, 

"  P.  B.  Shelley." 


FROM    SHELLEY   TO    MR.    OLLIER. 

"  Florence,  December  15th,  1819. 
"  Dear  Sir, 

"  Pray  give  Mr.  Procter  my  best  thanks  for  his  polite 
attention.  I  read  the  article  you  enclosed  with  the  pleasure 
which  every  one  feels,  of  course,  when  they  are  praised  or 
defended ;  though  the  praise  would  have  given  me  more 
pleasure  if  it  had  been  less  excessive.  I  am  glad,  however, 
to  see  the  Quarterly  cut  up,  and  that  by  one  of  their  own 
people.  Poor  Southey  has  enough  to  endure.  Do  you  know, 
I  think  the  article  in  Blackwood  could  not  have  been  written 
by  a  favorer  of  Government,  and  a  religionist.  I  don't  be- 
lieve any  such  one  could  sincerely  like  my  writings.  After 
all,  is  it  not  some  friend  in  disguise,  and  don't  you  know  who 
wrote  it  ? 

"  There  is  one  very  droll  thing  in  the  Quarterly.  They  say 
that  •  my  chariot-wheels  are  broken.'  Heaven  forbid  !  My 
chariot,  you  may  tell  them,  was  built  by  one  of  the  best 
makers* in  Bond  Street,  and  it  has  gone  several  thousand 
miles  in  perfect  security.  What  a  comical  thing  it  would  be 
to  make  the  following  advertisement !  —  'A  report  having  pre- 
vailed, in  consequence  of  some  insinuations  in  the  Quarterly 

*  Shelley's  frequent  allusions  to  his  being  drowned  are  very  sin- 
gular. —  Ed. 


PROMETHEUS    UNBOUND.  135 

Review,  that  Mr.  Shelley's  chariot-wheels  are  broken,  Mr. 
Charters,  of  Bond  Street,  begs  to  assure  the  public  that  they, 
after  having  carried  him  through  Italy,  France,  and  Switzer- 
land, still  continue  in  excellent  repair.' 

"  When  the  box  comes,  you  may  write  a  note  to  Mr.  Pea- 
cock ;  or  it  would  be  better  to  call  on  him,  and  ask  if  my 
tragedy  is  accepted  ?  If  not,  publish  what  you  find  in  the  box. 
I  think  it  will  succeed  as  a  publication.  Let  Prometheus  be 
printed  without  delay.  You  will  receive  the  additions,  which 
Mrs.  S.  is  now  transcribing,  in  a  few  days.  It  has  already 
been  read  to  many  persons.  My  Prometheus  is  the  best  thing 
I  ever  wrote. 

"  Pray  what  have  you  done  with  Peter  Bell  ?  Ask  Mr. 
Hunt  for  it,  and  for  some  other  poems  of  a  similar  character 
I  sent  him  to  give  you  to  publish.  I  think  Peter  not  bad  in 
his  way  ;  but  perhaps  no  one  will  believe  in  anything  in  the 
shape  of  a  joke  from  me. 

"  Of  course  with  my  next  box  you  will  send  me  the  Dra- 
matic Sketches.*  I  have  only  seen  the  extracts  in  the  Ex- 
aminer. They  have  some  passages  painfully  beautiful.  When 
I  consider  the  vivid  energy  to  which  the  minds  of  men  are 
awakened  in  this  age  of  ours,  ought  I  not  to  congratulate  my- 
self that  I  am  a  contemporary  with  names  which  are  great,  or 
will  be  great,  or  ought  to  be  great  ? 

"  Have  you  seen  my  poem,  Julian  and  Maddalo  f  Suppose 
you  print  that  in  the  manner  of  Hunt's  Hero  and  Leander ; 
for  I  mean  to  write  three  other  poems,  the  scenes  of  which 
will  be  laid  at  Rome,  Florence,  and  Naples,  but  the  subjects 
of  which  will  be  all  drawn  from  dreadful  or  beautiful  realities, 
as  that  of  this  was> 

"  If  I  have  health but  I  will  neither  boast  nor  promise. 

I  am  preparing  an  octavo  on  reform  —  a  commonplace  kind 
of  book  —  which,  now  that  I  see  the  passion  of  party  will 
postpone  the  great  struggle  till  another  year*  I  shall  not 
trouble  myself  to  finish  for  this  season.     I  intend  it  to  be  an 

*  By  Mr.  Procter.  —  Ed. 


136  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

instructive  and  readable  book,  appealing  from  the  passions  to 
the  reason  of  men. 

"  Yours  very  sincerely, 

"  P.  B.  8." 

It  will  be  seen  from  the  date  of  the  last  two  letters 
that  the  Shelleys  had  removed  from  Leghorn  to  Flor- 
ence. They  did  so  in  the  early  part  of  October;  but 
though  Shelley  was  delighted  with  the  latter  city  (one 
of  the  most  glorious  in  Italy),  he  found  that  the  air  did 
not  suit  him,  and  early  in  the  following  year  he  moved 
again. 

The  "  Manchester  work,"  to  which  Shelley  alludes 
in  the  letter  of  September  6th,  was  the  slaughter,  by 
a  body  of  mounted  yeomanry,  of  several  wretched  men 
and  women  who  had  attended  a  large  reform  meeting 
in  the  open  air,  at  Peterloo,  near  the  great  cotton 
metropolis.  This  horrible  affair  suggested  to  Shelley 
his  Masque  of  Anarchy,  which  he  sent  to  Leigh  Hunt 
to  be  published  by  him,  if  he  thought  fit,  in  the  Ex- 
aminer. Leigh  Hunt,  however,  did  not  insert  it,  be- 
cause he  thought  the  public  mind  was  hardly  in  a  fit 
state  to  receive  a  poem  which  was  of  a  nature  rather  to 
increase  than  to  calm  the  excitement  already  existing 
with  respect  to  the  massacre ;  but  he  gave  it  to  the 
world  in  a  small  volume  which  appeared  in  the  year 
1832.  In  this  poem,  as  in  the  Cenci,  Shelley  has 
shown  his  capacity  to  speak  directly  to  the  heart ;  yet 
it  is  full  of  imagination,  also,  and  of  exquisite  musical 
utterance.  Several  of  his  other  minor  poems  written 
in    this    same    year    were    likewise    prompted    by    the 


PROMETHEUS    UNROUND.  137 

political  state  of  England,  which  at  that  time,  under 
the  profligate  rule  of  the  Prince  Regent  and  the  re- 
actionary counsels  of  Lord  Castlereagh,  was  fast  be- 
coming one  with  the  worst  Continental  tyrannies.  Peter 
Bell  the  Third  was  a  satire  on  Wordsworth  for  desert- 
ing his  youthful  advocacy  of  liberty.  It  was  not  pub- 
lished till  after  Shelley's  death. 

The  article  in  the  Quarterly  Review  was  a  criticism 
on  the  Bevolt  of  Islam,  Shelley  read  it  for  the  first 
time  at  a  public  room  in  Florence,  and  laughed  loudly 
at  its  absurdity.  Yet  the  calumnies  it  contained  prob- 
ably led  to  a  dastardly  attack  on  him  at  the  Post-Office 
by  an  Englishman,  who,  addressing  him  as  an  Atheist, 
knocked  him  down,  and  ran  off.  Several  efforts  were 
made  by  Shelley  to  discover  and  punish  the  cowardly 
scoundrel ;  but  they  failed.  The  poor  fanatic  effectu- 
ally shrouded  himself  in  secrecy. 

Writing  to  her  friend,  Mrs.  Gisborne,  from  Florence,  on 
the  5th  of  October,  Mrs.  Shelley  reports  a  witty  remark 
by  her  husband,  which  ought  to  be  preserved.  "  Shel- 
ley," she  records,  "  Calderonized  on  the  late  weather  :he 
called  it  an  epic  of  rain,  with  an  episode  of  frost,  and  a 
few  similes  concerning  fine  weather." 

Shelley  was  at  this  time  greatly  troubled  by  the  failure 
of  his  usual  remittances  from  England,  owing  to  some 
cause  which  he  could  not  divine.  In  a  letter  to  Mrs. 
Gisborne,  dated  October  14th,  he  says  :  — 

"  About  Henry  and  the  steam-engine,  I  am  in  torture  until 
this  money  comes  from  London,  though  I  am  sure  that  it  must 
and  will  come  ;  unless,  indeed,  my  banker  has  broke,  and  then 


138  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

it  will  be  my  loss,  not  Henry's.  A  little  delay  will  mend  the 
matter.  I  would  then  write  instantly  to  London  an  effectual 
letter,  and  by  return  of  post  all  would  be  set  right.  It  would 
then  be  a  thing  easily  set  straight ;  but,  if  it  were  not,  you 
know  me  too  well  not  to  know  that  there  is  no  personal  suffer- 
ing, or  degradation,  or  toil,  or  anything  that  can  be  named, 
with  which  I  do  not  feel  myself  bound  to  support  this  enter- 
prise of  Henry.  But  all  this  rodomontade  only  shows  how 
correct  Mr.  Bielby's  advice  was,  about  the  discipline  necessary 
for  my  imagination.  No  doubt  that  all  will  go  on  with  mer- 
cantile and  commonplace  exactness,  and  that  you  will  be 
spared  the  suffering,  and  I  the  virtue,  incident  to  some  un- 
tpward  event." 

A  week  later,  he  wrote  as  follows  to  Mrs.  Gisborne 
and  her  son :  — 

"Florence,  Oct  21st,  1819. 
"My  dear  Friends, 

"I  send  you  a  check  for  111  sequins,  5  pauls,  the  prod- 
uce of  50/.,  to  go  on  with.  It  must  be  presented  and  in- 
dorsed by  Henry,  to  get  the  money.  The  200Z.  will  arrive 
in  a  few  days. 

"  My  sincerest  congratulations  to  Mr.  Gisborne  on  his  ar- 
rival. 

"  I  write  these  lines  in  a  stationer's  close  to  the  Post-Office, 
and  in  great  haste,  not  to  miss  the  post. 

"  Percy  B.  Shelley." 

We  next  come  to  a  letter  of  friendly  reproof,  addressed 
to  Mr.  Henry  Reveley  :  — 

"  October  28th,  1819. 
"My  dear  Henry, 

"  In  the  first  place,  listen  to  a  reproach :  you  ought  to 
have  sent  me  an  acknowledgment  of  my  last  billet. 

"  Let  you  and  I  try  if  we  cannot  be  as  punctual  and  busi- 


TROMETIIEUS     UNBOUND.  139 

ness  like  as  the  best  of  them.     But  no  clipping  and  coining,  if 
you  please. 

"  Now  take  this  that  I  say  in  a  light  just  so  serious  as  not  to 
give  you  pain,  In  fact,  my  dear  fellow,  my  motive  for  solicit- 
ing your  correspondence,  and  that  flowing  from  your -own 
mind,  and  clothed  in  your  own  words,  is,  that  you  may  begin 
to  accustom  to  discipline  yourself  in  the  only  practice  of  life 
in  which  you  appear  deficient.  You  know  that  you  are  writing 
to  a  person  persuaded  of  all  the  confidence  and  respect  due  to 
your  powers  in  those  branches  of  science  to  which  you  have 
addicted  yourself;  and  you  will  not  permit  a  false  shame  with 
regard  to  the  mere  mechanical  arrangement  of  words  to  over- 
balance  the  advantage  arising  from  the  free  communication  of 
ideas.  Thus  you  will  become  day  by  day  more  skilful  in  the 
management  of  that  instrument  of  their  communication  on 
which  the  attainment  of  a  person's  just  rank  in  society  de- 
pends. Do  not  think  me  arrogant.  There  are  subjects  of  the 
highest  importance,  on  which  you  are  far  better  qualified  to 
instruct  me,  than  I  am  qualified  to  instruct  you  on  this  subject. 

"  Your  very  faithful  friend, 

"  P.  B.  S." 

Addressing  the  Gisbornes  on  the  same  day,  Shelley 
again  refers  to  the  unsatisfactory  state  of  his  finances :  — 

"Florence,  Oct.  28^,  1819. 
"  My  dear  Friends, 

"  I  received  this  morning  the  strange  and  unexpected 
news  that  my  bill  of  2007.  has  been  returned  to  Mr.  Webb 
protested.  Ultimately  this  can  be  nothing  but  delay,  as  I  have 
only  drawn  from  my  banker's  hands  as  much  as  to  leave  them 
still  in  possession  of  SOL  ;  and  this  I  positively  know,  and  can 
prove  by  documents.  By  return  of  post  (for  I  have  not  only 
written  to  my  banker,  but  to  private  friends)  no  doubt  Henry 
will  be  enabled  to  proceed.  Let  him,  meanwhile,  do  all  that 
can  be  done. 


140  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

"  Meanwhile,  to  save  time,  could  not  money  be  obtained 

temporarily,  at  Livorno,  from  Mr.  W or  Mr.  G ,  or 

any  of  your  acquaintance,  on  my  bills  at  three  or  six  months, 
indorsed  by  Mr.  Gisborne  and  Henry,  so  that  he  may  go  on 
with. his  work  ?     If  a  month  is  of  consequence,  think  of  this. 

"  Be  of  good  cheer,  Madonna  mia  ;  all  will  go  well.  The 
enclosed  is  for  Henry,  and  was  written  before  this  news,  as  he 
will  see ;  but  it  does  not,  strange  as  it  is,  abate  one  atom  of  my 
cheer. 

"  Accept,  dear  Mrs.  G.,  my  best  regards. 

"  Yours  faithfully, 
"P.  B.  S." 

On  November  13th,  Shelley  writes  to  Leigh  Hunt:  — 
"  Yesterday   morning,   Mary  brought    me  a   little  boy. 
She  suffered  but  two  hours'  pain,  and  is  now  so  well  that 
it  seems  a  wonder  that  she  stays  in  bed.     The  babe  is 
quite  well,  and  ha.o  duck.     You   may  hu- 

ts a  gr.  at  relief  and  a  great  comfort  to  me 
amongst  all  my  misfortunes,  past,  present,  and  to  come. 
.  .  .  .  Poor  Mary  begins  (for  the  first  time)  to  look 
a  little  consoled ;  for  we  have  spent,  as  you  may  imagine, 
a  miserable  five  months."  The  same  domestic  event  is 
touched  upon  by  Mrs.  Shelley  herself  in  a  letter  to  Mrs. 
Gisborne :  — 

"December  1st,  1819. 
"My  dear  Mrs.  G., 

"  The  little  boy  is  nearly  three  times  as  big  as  when  he 
was  born ;  he  thrives  well  and  cries  little,  and  is  now  taking  a 
right-down,  earnest  sleep,  with  all  his  heart  in  his  shut  en 

•  There  are  some  ladies  come  to  this  house  who  knew  Shel- 
ley's family  ;  the  younger  one  was  enthousiasmee  to  see  him ; 
the  elder  said  that  he  was  a  very  shocking  man,  but,  finding 
that  we  became  the  mode,  she  melted,  and  paid  us  a  visit.    She 


PROMETHEUS     UNBOUND.  ML 

is  a  little  old  Welshwoman,  without  the  slightest  education. 
She  has  got  an  Italian  master,  and  has  entered  into  the  difficult 
part  of  the  language,  the  singulars  and  plurals  — the  il's  and 
the  lo's,  and  is  to  turn  masculines  into  feminines,  and  feminines 
into  masculines ;  but  she  says  she  does  not  think  she  shall  ever 
learn,  for  she  cannot  help  mixing  Welsh  with  her  Italian  — 
and,  besides,  it  spoils  her  French.  She  speaks  the  sweetest 
French,  as  you  may  judge  by  her  telling  her  master,  '  Jfc  ne 
pent  lire  aucune  plus.' 

"  The  younger  lady  was  a  ward  of  one  of  Shelley's  uncles. 
She  is  lively  and  unaffected.  She  sings  well  for  an  English 
debutante,  and,  if  she  would  learn  the  scales,  would  sing  ex- 
ceedingly well,  for  she  has  a  sweet  voice.     So  there  is  a  great 

deal  of  good  company  for  C ,  who  is  as  busy  as   a  bee 

among  them  all,  serving  as  an  interpreter  to  their  masters. 
She  has  a  most  excellent  singing  master,  and  he  now  teaches 
several   other   young   ladies   who   are   here.     One  who  had 

in  England,  when   told 
burst 

•ito.' 

"  I  do  not  know  why  I  write  all  this  gossip  to  you.  Pray 
let  us  hear  of  you,  and  the  steamboat,  and  the  felucca. 

"  AfFectionately  yours, 

"M.  W.  Shelley." 

Writing  to  Mrs.  Gisborne  on  December  15th,  Mrs. 
Shelley  says  :  — 

"  You  see,  my  dear  friend,  by  the  receipt  of  your  crowns, 
that  we  have  recovered  100/.  of  our  money.  There  is  still 
100/.  in  jeopardy ;  but  we  must  hope,  and  perhaps,  by  din 

giving  it   up  as  lost,  we  may  find  it  again 1  have 

begun  reading  with  Shelley  the  Conquesta  di  Mexico,  by  Solio. 
We  have  read  very  little  yet.  I  send  you  something  to  amuse 
you  —  the  bane  and  antidote.  The  bane  from  the  Quarterly,  the 
autidote  from  Blackwood's  Edinburgh  Magazine,  a  publication 


142  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

as  furious  as  the  Quarterly,  but  which  takes  up  arms  (singu- 
larly enough)  in  Shelley's  defence.  We  half  think  that  it 
must  be  Walter  Scott,  the  only  liberal  man  of  that  faction." 

Some   days   later,  Mrs.   Shelley  again   wrote  to  her 
friend,  Mrs.  Gisborne  :  — 

"Florence,  Dec.  2$th,  1819. 
"  MY  dear  Mrs.  Gisborne, 

"  I  am  glad  you  are  pleased  with  the  Prometheus.  The 
last  act,  though  very  beautiful,  is  certainly  the  most  mystic  of 
the  four.  I  am  glad  also  that  Spenser  pleases  you,  for  he  is  a 
favorite  author  of  mine.  In  his  days,  I  fancy,  translations  and 
plagiarisms  were  not  considered  so  disgraceful  as  they  are 
now.  You  have  not  all  of  him,  and  therefore  perhaps  you 
have  not  read  the  parts  that  I  particularly  admire  *  —  the 
snowy  Florimel,  Belphoebe,  and  her  Squire  lover  (who  are 
half  meant  for  Queen  Elizabeth  and  Lord  Essex).  Britomart 
is  only  an  imitation ;  she  is  cold  and  dull ;  but  the  others,  and 
the  lovely  Una,  are  his  own  creations,  and  I  own  I  like  them 
better  than  Angelica,  although,  indeed,  the  thought  of  her 
night  scene  with  Madoraf  came  across  me,  and  made  me 
pause  as  I  wrote  the  opinion.  But,  perhaps,  it  is  not  in  pathos, 
but  in  simple  description  of  beauty,  that  Spenser  excels.  His 
description  of  the  Island  of  Bliss  is  an  exact  translation  of 
Tasso's  Garden  of  Armida  ;  yet  how  is  it  that  I  find  a  greater 
simplicity  and  spirit  in  the  translation  than  in  the  original  ? 
Yet,  so  it  is. 

"  I  think  of  beginning  to  read  again  —  study  I  cannot,  for 
I  have  no  books,  and  I  may  not  call  simple  reading  study,  for 
papa  is  continually  saying  and  writing,  that  to  read  one  book 
without  others  beside  you,  to  which  you  may  refer,  is  mere 
child's  play ;  but  still  I  hope  now  to  get  on  with  Latin  and 
Spanish.      Do  )Ou  know  that,  if  you  could  borrow  for  us 

*  In  the  Faery  Queene.  —  Ed. 

t  See  Ariosto's  Orlando  Furioso.  —  Ed. 


PROMETHEUS    UNBOUND.  143 

Rousseau's  E?nile,  and  Voltaire's  Essai  sur  VEsprit  des  Nations 
—  either  or  both  —  you  would  oblige  us  very  much. 

"  Shelley  has  given  up  the  idea  of  visiting  Leghorn  before 
the  finishing  of  the  steamboat.  He  is  rather  better  these  last 
two  or  three  days,  but  he  has  suffered  dreadfully  lately  from 
his  side.  He  seems  a  changed  man.  His  numerous  weak- 
nesses and  ailments  have  left  him,  and  settled  all  in  his  side 
alone,  for  he  never,  any  other  winter,  suffered  such  constant 
pain  there.*  It  puts  me  in  mind  of  the  mountain  of  ills  in  the 
Spectator,  where  mankind  exchange  ills  one  with  the  other ; 
then  they  all  take  up  their  old  evils  again  as  the  most  bear- 
able.    I  do  not  know  whether  this  is  Shelley's  case. 

"Affectionately  yours, 

"  M.  W.  Shelley." 

*  In  another  letter,  Mrs.  Shelley  speaks  of  this  pain  having  a  rheu- 
matic character.  —  Ed. 


144  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 


CHAPTER   X. 

THE    POET'S    LIFE    AT    PISA    AND    LEGHORN. 

On  the  26th  of  January,  1820,  the  Shelleys  removed 
to  Pisa.  At  that  city  they  had  friends,  and  could  con- 
sult the  celebrated  physician  Vacca  on  the  subject  of  the 
poet's  ailments,  though  they  received  from  him  no  other 
advice  than  to  abstain  from  all  medicine,  and  leave  the 
constitution  to  right  itself.  Vacca  was  as  much  puzzled 
as  the  other  medical  men  to  assign  any  cause  for  Shel- 
ley's painful  symptoms ;  but,  whatever  might  have  been 
the  nature  of  the  complaint,  the  air  of  Pisa  agreed  better 
with  the  patient  than  that  of  any  other  place,  and  it  was 
therefore  determined  on  to  remain  there.  Under  the 
best  of  circumstances,  however,  Shelley  was  never  en- 
tirely free  from  pain  and  ill-health. 

In  walking,  riding,  and  studying,  some  months  passed 
pleasantly  away.  When  evening  had  set  in,  Shelley, 
according  to  his  usual  custom,  would  read  aloud.  A  few 
weeks  in  the  spring  were  spent  at  Leghorn,  in  a  villa 
lent  to  them  by  their  friends  the  Gisbornes,  who  were 
then  absent  in  England.  From  this  house  Shelley  ad- 
dressed his  letter  in  verse  to  Mrs.  Gisborne  —  a  com- 
position of  interwoven  grace  and  humor,  uttered  in  free 


THE   POET'S    LIFE   AT   PISA   AND    LEGHORN.      145 

and  fluent  heroic  couplet,  and  containing  a  lovely  picture 
of  the  scenery  and  influences  by  which  the  writer  was 
surrounded :  — 

"  I  see  a  chaos  of  green  leaves  and  fruit 
Built  round  dark  caverns,  even  to  the  root 
Of  the  living  stems  who  feed  them ;  in  whose  bowers 
There  sleep  in  their  dark  dew  the  folded  flowers. 
Beyond,  the  surface  of  the  unsickled  corn 
Trembles  not  in  the  slumbering  air,  and,  borne 
In  circles  quaint  and  ever- changing  dance, 
Like  winged  stars  the  fire-flies  flash  and  glance, 
Pale  in  the  open  moonshine;  but  each'bne 
Under  the  dark  trees  seems  a  little  sun,  — 
A  meteor  tamed,  —  a  fix'd  star  gone  astray 
From  the  silver  regions  of  the  Milky  Way. 
Afar,  the  Contadino's  song  is  heard, 
Rude,  but  made  sweet  by  distance ;  and  a  bird, 
Which  cannot  be  a  nightingale,  and  yet 
I  know  none  else  that  sings  so  sweet  as  it 
At  this  late  hour;  —  and  then  all  is  still." 

The  date  of  this  poem  is  July  1st.  While  staying  at 
the  same  house,  Shelley  wrote  his  divine  Ode  to  a  Sky- 
lark. The  poem  was  suggested  to  him  one  evening  by 
the  bird  itself,  whose  song  attracted  his  attention  as  he 
was  wandering  with  Mrs.  Shelley  among  lanes  shut  in 
by  myrtle  hedges,  and  spangled  with  the  erratic  glory  of 
the  fire-flies. 

Being  alarmed  for  the  safety  of  their  only  child,  who 
was  affected  by  the  extreme  heat  of  the  summer,  the 
parents  left  Leghorn  in  August  for  the  baths  of  San 
Giuliano,  which  are  situated  four  miles  from  Pisa.  The 
water  of  the  baths  soothed  the  nervous  irritability  of 
Shelley,  and  the  time  appears  to  have  been  very  agree- 
7 


146  SHELLEY   MEMORIALS. 

ably  spent,  the  country  being  beautiful  and  the  climate 
brilliant  "  During  some  of  the  hottest  days  of  August," 
we  read  in  the  notes  to  the  poems,  "  Shelley  made  a  soli- 
tary journey  on  foot  to  the  summit  of  Monte  San  Pele- 
grino  —  a  mountain  of  some  height,  on  the  top  of  which 
there  is  a  chapel,  the  object,  during  certain  days  in  the 
year,  of  many  pilgrimages."  The  undue  exertion  pro- 
duced considerable  lassitude  and  weakness  in  Shelley 
after  his  return  ;  yet,  in  the  three  days  immediately  suc- 
ceeding, he  produced  that  gorgeous  fantasy,  the  Witch 
of  Atlas.     He  had  conceived  the  idea  during  his  walk. 

In  Mrs.  Shelley's  Journal,  under  date  "August  25th," 
is  recorded  :  —  "  Shelley  writes  Ode  to  Naples  ;  begins 
Swellfoot,  the  Tyrant  —  suggested  by  the  grunting  of  the 
pigs  at  the  fair  of  San  Giuliano,  whilst  he  was  reading 
aloud  his  Ode  to  Liberty."  He  compared  this  unmusical 
interruption  to  "  the  chorus  of  frogs  in  the  satiric  drama 
of  Aristophanes."  The  object  of  Shelley's  burlesque  was 
to  place  in  a  ludicrous  point  of  view  the  prosecution  of 
Queen  Caroline,  which  was  then  going  forward ;  and  the 
pigs  were  made  to  serve  as  chorus.  On  being  finished, 
it  was  sent  to  England,  where  it  was  printed  and  pub- 
lished anonymously ;  but  the  Society  for  the  Suppres- 
sion of  Vice,  conceiving,  in  their  ultra-sensitiveness,  that 
its  subject  trenched  too  much  on  forbidden  ground,  threat- 
ened to  prosecute,  and  the  work  was  consequently  with- 
drawn. 

Several  other  poems  (though  none  of  great  length) 
were  written  in  the  same  year ;  among  them,  that  delicate 
dream,  that  romance  of  metaphysical  subtlety,  finding  its 


THE    POET'S    LIFE    AT    PISA    AND    LEGHORN.       147 

expression  in  the  utmost  affluence  of  fancy  and  imagina- 
tion —  the  Sensitive  Plant 

A  singular  circumstance  brought  to  a  termination  the 
stay  of  the  Shelleys  at  San  Giuliano.  "At  the  foot  of 
our  garden,"  writes  Mrs.  Shelley,  "ran  the  canal  that 
communicated  between  the  Serchio  and  the  Arno.  The 
Serchio  overflowed  its  banks,  and,  breaking  its  bounds, 
this  canal  also  overflowed.  All  this  part  of  the  country 
is  below  the  level  of  its  rivers,  and  the  consequence  was 
that  it  was  speedily  flooded.  The  rising  waters  filled  the 
square  of  the  baths,  in  the  lower  part  of  which  our  house 
was  situated.  The  canal  overflowed  in  the  garden  be- 
hind ;  the  rising  waters  on  either  side  at  last  burst  open 
the  doors,  and,  meeting  in  the  house,  rose  to  the  height 
of  six  feet.  It  was  a  picturesque  sight  at  night,  to-  see 
the  peasants  driving  the  cattle  from  the  plains  below  to 
the  hills  above  the  baths.  A  fire  was  kept  up  to-  guide 
them  across  the  ford  ;  and  the  forms  of  the  men  and  the 
animals  showed  in  dark  relief  against  the  red  glare'  of 
the  flame,  which  was  reflected  again  in  the  waters  that 
filled  the  square." 

Driven  forth  by  this  local  deluge,  Shelley  and  his  wife 
took  up  their  abode  for  the  winter  at  Pisa,  where  the 
extreme  mildness  of  the  climate  offered  a  great  induce- 
ment to  them  to  stay.  The  dreamy  quiet  of  the  half- 
depopulated  old  Republican  city,  moreover,  delighted 
Shelley  ;  and  for  the  brief  remainder  of  his  life  he  lived 
for  the  most  part  there.  Painful  experience  had  taught 
him  and  Mrs.  Shelley,  when  contemplating  their  infant 
son,  to  dread  the  heat  in  the  south  of  the  peninsula ; 


148  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

though,  but  for  this  fear,  they  would  have  continued  to 
wander  at  will,  being  devoted  lovers  of  travelling. 

The  appearance  of  the  poet  at  this  time  showed  a  sin- 
gular mixture  of  premature  age  and  unusually  prolonged 
youth.  He  walked  with  a  stoop,  and  his  hair  was  sprin- 
kled with  gray ;  but,  when  Mr.  Trelawney  was  introduced 
to  him  some  time  afterwards,  he  found  him  looking  like 
"  a  tall,  thin  stripling." 

Some  letters  addressed  to  Mr.  Oilier,  during  the  year 

1820,   illustrate   the   progress   of    Shelley's   intellectual 

labors  :  — 

"  Pisa,  Jan.  20th,  1820. 
"Dear  Sir, 

"  I  send  you  the  Witch  of  Atlas,  a  fanciful  poem,  which, 
if  its  merit  be  measured  by  the  labor  which  it  cost,  is  worth 
nothing ;  and  the  errata  of  Prometheus,  which  I  ought  to  have 
sent  long  since  —  a  formidable  list,  as  you  will  see. 

"  I  have  lately,  and  but  lately,  received  Mr.  Gisborne's  par- 
cel, with  reviews,  &c.  I  request  you  to  convey  to  Mr.  Procter 
my  thanks  for  the  present  of  his  works,  as  well  as  for  the 
pleasure  which  I  received  from  the  perusal,  especially  of  the 
Dramatic  Sketches. 

"  The  reviews  of  my  Cenci  (though  some  of  them,  and  es- 
pecially that  marked  '  John  Scott,'  are  written  with  great 
malignity)  on  the  whole  give  me  as  much  encouragement  as  a 
person  of  my  habits  of  thinking  is  capable  of  receiving  from 
such  a  source,  which  is,  inasmuch  as  they  coincide  with,  and 
confirm,  my  own  decisions.  My  next  attempt  (if  I  should 
write  more)  will  be  a  drama,  in  the  composition  of  which  I 
shall  attend  to  the  advice  of  my  critics,  to  a  certain  degree. 
But  I  doubt  whether  I  shall  write  more.  I  could  be  content 
either  with  the  Hell  or  the  Paradise  of  poetry;  but  the  tor- 
ments of  its  Purgatory  vex  me,  without  exciting  my  powers 
sufficiently  to  put  an  end  to  the  vexation. 


THE    POET'S    LIFE    AT    PISA    AND    LEGHORN.       140 

"  I  have  also  to  thank  you  for  the  present  of  one  or  two  of 
your  publications.  I  am  enchanted  with  your  Literary  Mis- 
cellany, although  the  last  article  it  contains  has  excited  my 
polemical  faculties  so  violently,  that  the  moment  I  get  rid  of 
my  ophthalmia  I  mean  to  set  about  an  answer  to  it,  which  I 
will  send  to  you,  if  you  please.  It  is  very  clever,  but,  I 
think,  very  false*  Who  is  your  commentator  on  the  German 
Drama  ?  He  is  a  powerful  thinker,  though  I  differ  from  him 
toto  cailo  about  the  Devils  of  Dante  and  Milton.  If  you  know 
him  personally,  pray  ask  him,  from  me,  what  he  means  by 
receiving  the  spirit  into  me;]  and  (if  really  it  is  any  good) 
how  one  is  to  get  at  it.  I  was  immeasurably  amused  by  the 
quotation  from  Schlegel,  about  the  way  in  which  the  popular 
faith  is  destroyed  —  first  the  Devil,  then  the  Holy  Ghost,  then 
God  the  Father.  I  had  written  a  Lucianic  essay  to  prove  the 
same  thing.  There  are  two  beautiful  stories,  too,  in  this  Mis- 
cellany. It  pleased  me,  altogether,  infinitely.  I  was  also 
much  pleased  with  the  Retrospective  Review  —  that  is,  with 
all  the  quotations  from  old  books  in  it ;  but  it  is  very  ill  ex- 
ecuted. 

"  When  the  spirit  moves  you,  write  and  give  me  an  account 
of  the  ill  success  of  my  verses. 

"  Who  wrote  the  review,  in  your  publication,  of  my  Cenci  f 
It  was  written  in  a  friendly  spirit,  and,  if  you  know  the  au- 
thor, I  wish  you  would  tell  him  from  me  how  much  obliged 
I  am  to  him  for  this  spirit,  more  gratifying  to  me  than  any  lit- 
erary laud.  Dear  Sir, 

"  Yours,  very  truly, 

"  P.  B.  S." 

*  The  article  (which  was  written  by  Mr.  Peacock)  was  au  Essay- 
on  Poetry,  which  the  writer  regarded  as  a  worn-out  delusion  of  bar- 
barous times.  —  Ed. 

t  The  writer  was  the  late  Archdeacon  Hare,  who,  despite  his  ortho- 
doxy, was  a  great  admirer  of  Shelley's  genius.  He  contended  that 
Milton  erred  in  making  the  Devil  a  majestical  being,  and  hoped  that 
Shelley  would  in  time  humble  his  soul,  and  "  receive  the  spirit  into 
him."  —  Ed. 


150  SHELLEY   MEMORIALS. 

"  Pisa,  March  6th,  1820. 
"Dear  Sir, 

"  I  do  not  hear  that  you  have  received  Prometheus  and 
the  Cenci;  I  therefore  think  it  safest  to  tell  you  how  and 
when  to  get  them  if  you  have  not  yet  done  so. 

"  Give  the  bill  of  lading  Mr.  Gisborne  sent  you  to  a  broker 
in  the  city,  whom  you  employ  to  get  the  package,  and  to 
pay  the  duty  on  the  unbound  books.  The  ship  sailed  in  the 
middle  of  December,  and  will  assuredly  have  arrived  long 
before  now. 

"  Prometheus  Unbound,  I  must  tell  you,  is  my  favorite 
poem ;  I  charge  you,  therefore,  specially  to  pet  him  and  feed 
him  with  fine  ink  and  good  paper.  Cenci  is  written  for  the 
multitude,  and  ought  to  sell  well.  I  think,  if  I  may  judge  by 
its  merits,  the  Prometheus  cannot  sell  beyond  twenty  copies. 
I  hear  nothing  either  from  Hunt,  or  you,  or  any  one.  If  you 
condescend  to  write  to  me,  mention  something  about  Keats. 

"AUow  me  particularly  to  request  you  to  send  copies  of 
whatever  I  publish  to  Horace  Smith. 

"  May  be  you  will  see  me  in  the  summer ;  but  in  that  case 
I  shall  certainly  return  to  this  '  Paradise  of  Exiles '  *  by  the 
ensuing  winter. 

"  If  any  of  the  Reviews  abuse  me,  cut  them  out  and  send 
them.  If  they  praise,  you  need  not  trouble  yourself.  I  feel 
ashamed  if  I  could  believe  that  I  should  deserve  the  latter; 
the  former,  I  flatter  myself,  is  no  more  than  a  just  tribute.  If 
Hunt  praises  me,  send  it,  because  that  is  of  another  character 
of  thing. 

"  Dear  Sir, 

"  Yours  very  truly, 

"Percy  B.  Shelley." 

"Pisa,  March  13th,  1820. 
"Dear  Sir, 

"  I  am  anxious  to  hear  that  you  have  received  the  parcel 

*  This  is  a  phrase  which  he  himself  applies  to  Italy  in  Julian  and 
Maddalo.  —  Ed. 


THE   POET'S    LIFE    AT    PISA    AND    LEGHORN.       151 

from  Leghorn,  and  to  learn  what  you  are  doing  with  the  Pro- 
metheus. If  it  can  be  done  without  great  difficulty,  I  should 
be  very  glad  that  the  revised  sheets  might  be  sent  by  the  post 
to  me  at  Leghorn.  It  might  be  divided  into  four  partitions, 
sending  me  four  or  five  sheets  at  once. 

"  My  friends  here  have  great  hopes  that  the  Cenci  will  suc- 
ceed as  a  publication.  It  was  refused  at  Drury  Lane,*  al- 
though expressly  written  for  theatrical  exhibition,  on  a  plea  of 
the  story  being  too  horrible.  I  believe  it  singularly  fitted  for 
the  stage. 

"  Let  me  request  you  to  give  me  frequent  notice  of  my  liter- 
ary interests  also. 

"  I  am,  dear  Sir, 

"  Your  very  obliged  servant, 

"  Percy  B.  Shelley. 

"I  hope  you  are  not  implicated  in  the  late  plot.f  Not 
having  heard  from  Hunt,  I  am  afraid  that  he,  at  least,  has 
something  to  do  with  it.  It  is  well  known,  since  the  time 
of  Jaffier,  that  a  conspirator  has  no  time  to  think  about  his 
friends." 

"Pisa,  May  Uth,  1820. 
"Dear  Sir, 

"  I  reply  to  your  letter  by  return  of  post,  to  confirm 
what  I  said  in  a  former  letter  respecting  a  new  edition  of  the 
Cenci,  which  ought,  by  all  means,  to  be  instantly  urged  for- 
ward. 

"  I  see  by  your  account  that  I  have  been  greatly  mistaken 
in  my  calculations  of  the  profit  of  my  writings.  As  to  the 
trifle  due  to  me,  it  may  as  well  remain  in  your  hands. 

"As  to  the  printing  of  the  Prometheus,  be  it  as  you  will. 
But  in  this  case,  I  shall  repose  or  trust  in  your  care  respecting 
the  correction  of  the  press ;   especially  in  the  lyrical  parts, 

*  This  is  apparently  a  slip  of  the  pen  for  Covent  Garden.  —  Ed. 
t  The  Cato  Street  Conspiracy.  —  Ed. 


152  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

where  a  minute  error  would  be  of  much  consequence.  Mr. 
Gisborne  will  revise  it ;  he  heard  it  recited,  and  will  therefore 
more  readily  seize  any  error. 

"  If  I  had  even  intended  to  publish  Julian  and  Maddalo 
with  my  name,  yet  I  would  not  print  it  with  Prometheus.  It 
would  not  harmonize.  It  is  an  attempt  in  a  different  style,  in 
which  I  am  not  yet  sure  of  myself —  a  sermo  pedestris  way  of 
treating  human  nature,  quite  opposed  to  the  idealisms  of  that 
drama.  If  you  print  Julian  and  Maddalo,  I  wish  it  to  be 
printed  in  some  unostentatious  form,  accompanied  with  the 
fragment  of  Athanase,  and  exactly  in  the  manner  in  which  I 
sent  it ;  and  I  particularly  desire  that  my  name  be  not  an- 
nexed to  the  first  edition  of  it,  in  any  case. 

"  If  Peter  Bell  be  printed  (you  can  best  judge  if  it  will  sell 
or  no,  and  there  would  be  no  other  reason  for  printing  such  a 
trifle),  attend,  I  pray  you,  particularly  to  completely  concealing 
the  author ;  and  for  Emma  read  Betty,  as  the  name  of  Peter's 
sister.  Emma,  I  recollect,  is  the  real  name  of  the  sister  of  a 
great  poet  who  might  be  mistaken  for  Peter.  I  ought  to  say 
that  I  send  you  poems  in  a  few  posts,  to  print  at  the  end  of 
Prometheus,  better  fitted  for  that  purpose  than  any  in  your 
possession. 

"  Keats,  I  hope,  is  going  to  show  himself  a  great  poet ;  like 
the  sun,  to  burst  through  the  clouds,  which  though  dyed  in  the 
finest  colors  of  the  air,  obscured  his  rising.  The  Gisbornes 
will  bring  me  from  you  copies  of  whatever  may  be  published 
when  they  leave  England. 

"  Dear  Sir, 

11  Yours  faithfully, 

"  P.  B.  Shelley." 

"Pisa,  November  10th,  1820. 
"Dear  Sir, 

"  Mr.  Gisborne  has  sent  me  a  copy  of  the  Prometheus, 
which  is  certainly  most  beautifully  printed.  It  is  to  be  re- 
gretted that  the  errors  of  the  press  are  so  numerous,  and  in 


THE    POET'S    LIFE    AT    PISA    AND    LEGHORN.       153 

many  respects  so  destructive  of  the  sense  of  a  species  of 
poetry  which,  I  fear,  even  without  this  disadvantage,  very  few 
will  understand  or  like.  I  shall  send  you  the  list  of  errata  in 
a  day  or  two. 

"  I  send  some  poems  to  be  added  to  the  pamphlet  of  Julian 
and  Maddalo.  I  think  you  have  some  other  smaller  poems 
belonging  to  that  collection,  and  I  believe  you  know  that  I  do 
not  wish  my  name  to  be  printed  on  the  title-page,  though  I 
have  no  objection  to  my  being  known  as  the  author. 

"  I  enclose  also  another  poem,  which  I  do  not  wish  to  be 
printed  with  Julian  and  Maddalo,  but  at  the  end  of  the  second 
edition  of  the  Cenci,  or  of  any  other  of  my  writings  to  which 
my  name  is  affixed,  if  any  other  should  at  present  have 
arrived  at  a  second  edition,  which  I  do  not  expect.  I  have  a 
purpose  in  this  arrangement,  and  have  marked  the  poem  I 
mean  by  a  cross. 

"  I  can  sympathize  too  feelingly  in  your  brother's  misfor- 
tune.* It  has  been  my  hard  fate  also  to  watch  the  gradual 
death  of  a  beloved  child,  and  to  survive  him.  Present  my 
respects  to  your  brother. 

"  My  friend  Captain  Medwin  is  with  me,  and  has  shown  me 
a  poem  on  Indian  hunting,  which  he  has  sent  you  to  publish. 
It  is  certainly  a  very  elegant  and  classical  composition,  and, 
even  if  it  does  not  belong  to  the  highest  style  of  poetry,  I 
should  be  surprised  if  it  did  not  succeed.  May  I  challenge 
your  kindness  to  do  what  you  can  for  it  ? 

"  You  will  hear  from  me  again  in  a  post  or  two.  The  Julian 
and  Maddalo,  and  the  accompanying  poems,  are  all  my  sad- 
dest verses  raked  up  into  one  heap.  I  mean  to  mingle  more 
smiles  with  my  tears  in  future. 

"  Your  obedient  servant, 

"  P.  B.  Shelley." 

In  addressing  her  friend,  Mrs.  Gisborne,  on  the  24th 

*  This  letter  was  addressed  to  Mr.  James  Oilier,  who  was  in  part- 
nership with  his  brother.     The  latter  had  just  lost  a  daughter.  —  Ed. 
7* 


154  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

of  March,  1820,  Mrs.  Shelley  speaks  of  herself  and  her 
husband  as  being  "  very  busy  translating  Spinoza.  I 
write  from  his  dictation,"  she  adds ;  "  and  we  get  on. 
By  the  bye,  I  wish  you  would  send  me  the  volume  of 
the  E?icyclopcedia  that  gives  a  system  of  shorthand,  for  I 
want  to  learn  one  without  delay." 

Writing  to  the  Gisbornes,  on  March  19  th,  Shelley 
says  :  —  "  Tell  us  of  the  steamboat.  This  steamboat  is 
a  sort  of  a  symptote,  which  seems  ever  to  approach  and 
never  to  arrive.  But  courage !  Horrible  work  this,  in 
England ! "  (He  is  here  again  alluding  to  the  Cato 
Street  conspiracy,  and  to  the  disturbed  state  of  things.) 
"  Good  and  bad  seem  to  have  become  inextricably  en- 
tangled in  our  unhappy  country." 

On  May  8th,  the  poet  indulges  (in  again  addressing 
Mrs.  Gisborne)  in  a  little  playful  raillery  on  the  subject 
of  Mrs.  Shelley's  handwriting  :  — 

"  I  wonder  what  makes  Mary  think  her  letter  worth  the 
trouble  of  opening — except,  indeed,  she  conceives  it  to  be  a 
delight  to  decipher  a  difficult  scrawl.  She  might  as  well  have 
put,  as  I  will  — '  My  dear  Sir, 

" '  ?     ?     ?     !     !     ! 

"  <  Yours,  &c.' 

"  Take  care  of  yourselves,  and  do  you  not  forget  your  nightly 
journal.  The  silent  dews  renew  the  grass  without  effort  in 
the  night.  I  mean  to  write  to  you,  but  not  to-day.  All  hap- 
piness .attend  you,  my  dear  friend  !  As  an  excuse  for  mine 
and  Mary's  incurable  stupidity,  I  send  a  little  thing  about 
poets,  which  is  itself  a  kind  of  excuse  for  Wordsworth." 


THE    POET'S    LIFE    AT    PISA   AND    LEGHORN.       155 
FROM   MRS.    SHELLEY    TO   MISS    CURRAN. 

"  Leghorn,  June  20th,  1820. 
"  My  dear  Miss  Curran, 

"  It  is  a  very  long  time  since  I  heard  From  you,  so  that,  if 
I  did  not  know  your  dislike  to  writing,  I  should  be  afraid  that 
something  had  happened  —  and  that  you  were  very  ill.  My 
heart,  during  all  this  time,  was  at  Rome  ;  but  I  cannot  conjec- 
ture when  I  shall  be  really  there.  Still,  a  letter  with  the 
Roman  postmark  would  be  a  pleasant  thing ;  how  much  more 
welcome  if  from  you  ! 

"  I  am  afraid  you  find  great  difficulties  in  executing  our  un- 
happy commission.  Shelley  and  I  therefore  are  induced  to 
entreat  you  to  have  the  kindness  to  order  a  plain  stone  to  be 
erected,  to  mark  the  spot,  with  merely  his  name  and  dates 
(William  Shelley,  born  Jan.  24th,  1816— June  7th,  1819). 
You  would  oblige  us  more  than  I  can  express  if  you  would 
take  care  that  this  should  be  done. 

"  Our  little  Percy  is  a  thriving,  forward  child ;  but  after 
what  has  happened  I  own  it  appears  to  me  a  failing  cloud — 
all  those  hopes  that  we  so  earnestly  dwell  upon.  How  do  you 
like  the  Cencif  It  sells,  you  must  know,  of  which  I  am  very 
glad.  If  I  could  hear  of  any  one  going  to  Rome  I  would  send 
you  some  other  books  to  amuse  you,  for  we  had  a  parcel  from 
England  the  other  day ;  but  we  are  entirely  out  of  the  world. 
It  will  give  me  great  pleasure  to  hear  from  you,  to  know  when 
you  leave  Rome,  and  how  your  pictures  increase.  Be  sure  I 
do  not  forget  your  nice  study  and  your  kind  hospitality.  Your 
study,  how  can  I  forget  when  we  have  so  valuable  a  specimen 
of  it,  that  is  dearer  to  me  than  I  can  well  say  ? 

"  Shelley  desires  his  kindest  remembrances.  I  would  give 
a  very  great  deal  to  look  upon  the  divine  city  from  the  Trinita 
di  Monti.     Is  not  my  heart  there  ? 

"  From  papa  I  have  not  heard  a  very  long  time.     Affairs 


156  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

seem  going  on  there  badly,  but  slower  than  a  tortoise  —  I  hope 
not  so  surely  towards  their  apparent  end. 
"  Farewell !    I  entreat  you  to  write. 

"  Yours,  with  affection, 

"Mary  W.  Shelley. 

"P.  S.  —  I  have  heard  your  brother's  life  of  your  father 
mush  praised." 


FROM   KEATS    TO    SHELLEY. 

"  Hampstead,  August  10th,  1820. 
"My  dear  Shelley, 

"  I  am  very  much  gratified  that  you,  in  a  foreign  country, 
and  with  a  mind  almost  over-occupied,  should  write  to  me  in 
the  strain  of  the  letter  beside  me.  If  I  do  not  take  advantage 
of  your  invitation,*  it  will  be  prevented  by  a  circumstance  I 
have  very  much  at  heart  to  prophesy.  There  is  no  doubt  that 
an  English  winter  would  put  an  end  to  me,  and  do  so  in  a  lin- 
gering, hateful  manner.  Therefore,  I  must  either  voyage  or 
journey  to  Italy,  as  a  soldier  marches  up  to  a  battery.  My 
nerves  at  present  are  the  worst  part  of  me,  yet  they  feel 
soothed  that,  come  what  extreme  may,  I  shall  not  be  destined 
to  remain  in  one  spot  long  enough  to  take  a  hatred  of  any 
four  particular  bedposts.  I  am  glad  you  take  any  pleasure  in 
my  poor  poem,f  which  I  would  willingly  take  the  trouble  to 
un write,  if  possible,  did  I  care  so  much  as  I  have  done  about 
reputation.  I  received  a  copy  of  the  Cenci,  as  from  yourself, 
from  Hunt.  There  is  only  one  part  of  it  I  am  judge  of —  the 
poetry  and  dramatic  effect,  which  by  many  spirits  now-a-days 
is  considered  the  Mammon.  A  modern  work,  it  is  said,  must 
have  a  purpose,  which  may  be  the  God.  An  artist  must  serve 
Mammon  ;  he  must  have  i  self-concentration  '  —  selfishness, 
perhaps.     You,  I  am  sure,  will  forgive  me  for  sincerely  re- 

*  To  go  to  Italy.  —  Ed.  f  Endymion.  —  Ed. 


THE    POET'S    LIFE   AT    PISA   AND    LEGHORN.       157 

marking  that  you  might  curb  your  magnanimity,  and  be  more 
of  an  artist,  and  load  every  rift  of  your  subject  with  ore.  The 
thought  of  such  discipline  must  fall  like  cold  chains  upon  you, 
who  perhaps  never  sat  with  your  wings  furled  for  six  months 
together.  And  is  not  this  extraordinary  talk  for  the  writer  of 
Endymion,  whose  mind  was  like  a  pack  of  scattered  cards  ? 
I  am  picked  up  and  sorted  to  a  pip.  My  imagination  is  a 
monastery,  and  I  am  its  monk.  I  am  in  expectation  of 
Prometheus  every  day.  Could  I  have  my  own  wish  effected, 
you  would  have  it  still  in  manuscript,  or  be  but  now  putting 
an  end  to  the  second  act.  I  remember  you  advising  me  not 
to  publish  my  first  blights,  on  Hampstead  Heath.  I  am  re- 
turning advice  upon  your  hands.  Most  of  the  poems  in  the 
volume  I  send  you  *  have  been  written  above  two  years,  and 
would  never  have  been  published  but  for  a  hope  of  gain ;  so 
you  see  I  am  inclined  enough  to  take  your  advice  now.  I 
must  express  once  more  my  deep  sense  of  your  kindness,  add- 
ing my  sincere  thanks  and  respects  for  Mrs.  Shelley.  In  the 
hope  of  soon  seeing  you, 

"  I  remain  most  sincerely  yours, 

"John  Keats." 


FROM   MRS.    SHELLEY   TO    MISS   CURRAN. 

"Pisa,  San  Giuliano,  August  17th,  [1820.] 

"  My  dear  Miss  Curran, 

"  I  should  have  answered  your  letter  before,  but  we 
have  been  in  the  confusion  of  moving.  We  are  now  settled 
in  an  agreeable  house  at  the  baths  of  San  Giuliano,  about  four 
miles  from  Pisa,  under  the  shadow  of  mountains,  and  with  de- 
lightful scenery  within  a  walk.  We  go  on  in  our  old  man- 
ner, with  no  change.  I  have  had  many  changes  for  the  worse 
—  one  might  be  for  the  better — but  that  is  nearly  impossible. 


This  was  his  last  publication.  —  Ed. 


158  SHELLEY  MEMORIALS. 

Our  child  is  well  and  thriving,  which  is  a  great  comfort ;  and 
the  Italian  stay  gives  Shelley  health,  which  is  to  him  a  rare 
and  substantial  enjoyment. 

"  I  did  not  receive  the  letter  you  mention  to  have  written  in 
March,  and  you  also  have  missed  one  of  our  letters,  in  which 
Shelley  acknowledged  the  receipt  of  the  drawing  you  men- 
tion,* and  requested  that  the  largest  pyramid  might  be  erected, 
if  they  would  encase  it  with  white  marble  for  25Z.  However, 
the  whole  had  better  stand  as  I  mentioned  in  my  last ;  for, 
without  the  most  vigorous  inspection,  great  cheating  would 
take  place,  and  no  female  could  detect  them.  When  we  visit 
Rome,  we  can  do  that  which  we  wish.  Many  thanks  for  your 
kindness,  which  has  been  very  great. 

"  How  enraged  all  our  mighty  rulers  are.  at  the  quiet  revo- 
lutions which  have  taken  place ;  it  is  said  that  some  one  said 
to  the  Grand  Duke  here,  '  Ma  si  chiedono  une  constituzione 
qui ! '  '  Ebene  la  dario  subito,'  was  the  reply  ;  but  he  is  not 
his  own  master,  and  Austria  would  take  care  that  that  should 
not  be  the  case.  They  say,  Austrian  troops  are  coming  here, 
and  the  Tuscan  ones  will  be  sent  to  Germany.  We  take  in 
Galignani,  and  would  send  them  to  you  if  you  liked.  I  do  not 
know  what  the  expense  would  be,  but  I  should  think  slight. 

"  If  you  recommence  painting,  do  not  forget  Beatrice.  I 
wish  very  much  for  a  copy  of  that.  You  would  oblige  us 
greatly  by  making  one.  Pray  let  me  hear  of  your  health. 
We  do  not  know  when  we  shall  be  in  Rome;  circum- 
stances must  direct;  and  they  dance  about  like  will-o'-the- 
wisps,  enticing  and  then  deserting  us.  We  must  take  care  not 
to  be  left  in  a  bog.  Adieu  !  take  care  of  yourself.  Believe 
me,  with  sincere  wishes  for  your  health,  and  kind  remem- 
brances, 

"  Ever  sincerely  yours, 

"Mary  W.  Shelley. 

"P.  S.  —  Who  was  he  with  the  long  memory  who  remem- 
*  Of  the  child  William.  — Ed. 


THE    POET'S    LIFE    AT    PISA    AND    LEGHORN.       159 

bered  seeing  me  ?  Somehow,  people  always  remember  my 
features ;  even  those  have  detected  my  identity  who  have  not 
seen  me  since  I  was  a  month  old ;  so  I  have  hopes  that,  when 
I  go  to  heaven,  I  shall  easily  be  recognized  by  my  old  friends. 
"  Do  you  know,  we  lose  many  letters  ?  —  having  spies  (not 
Government  ones)  about  us  in  plenty.  They  made  a  des- 
perate push  to  do  us  a  desperate  mischief  lately,  but  succeeded 
no  further  than  to  blacken  us  amongst  the  English ;  so,  if  you 
receive  a  fresh  batch  (or  green  bag)  of  scandal  against  us,  I 
assure  you  it  will  be  a  lie.  Poor  souls  !  we  live  innocently,  as 
you  well  know ;  if  we  did  not,  ten  to  one  we  should  not  be  so 
unfortunate." 

In  a  letter  dated  September  4th,  1820,  Horace  Smith 
communicates  to  Shelley  his  opinion  of  two  of  his  recent 
works  :  — 

"  I  got  from  Oilier  last  week  a  copy  of  the  Prometheus 
Unbound,  which  is  certainly  a  most  original,  grand,  and  occa- 
sionally sublime  work,  evincing,  in  my  opinion,  a  higher  order 
of  talent  than  any  of  your  previous  productions ;  and  yet, 
contrary  to  your  own  estimation,  I  must  say  I  prefer  the  Cenci, 
because  it  contains  a  deep  and  sustained  human  interest,  of 
which  we  feel  a  want  in  the  other.  Prometheus  himself 
certainly  touches  us  nearly  ;  but  we  see  very  little  of  him  after 
his  liberation  ;  and,  though  I  have  no  doubt  it  will  be  more 
admired  than  anything  you  have  written,  I  question  whether 
it  will  be  so  much  read  as  the  Cenci. 

"  Your  letter,  stating  your  sudden  intention  of  going  to 
Paris,  turned  up  the  other  day,  with  all  the  postmarks  of  the 
world  upon  it,  except,  I  believe,  Jerusalem  and  Seringapatam. 
Did  you  intrust  it  to  the  Wandering  Jew  V  " 


160  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

FROM   SHELLEY   TO    MR.  JOHN   GISBORNE. 

"  Pisa,  Oct.  29th,  1820. 
"  Dear  Friend, 

"  Can  you  tell  me  anything  about  Arabic  grammars,  dic- 
tionaries, and  manuscripts,  and  whether  they  are  vendible  at 
Leghorn,  and  whether  there  are  any  native  Arabs  capable  of 
teaching  the  language  ?  Do  not  give  yourself  any  trouble 
about  the  subject ;  but  if  you  could  answer  or  discover  an 
answer  to  these  questions  without  any  pains,  I  should  be  very 
much  obliged  to  you.  My  kind  regards  to  Mrs.  G.  and  Henry. 
"  Yours  very  truly, 

"  P.  B.  Shelley." 


SHELLEY   AND    BYRON   AT   PISA.  161 


CHAPTER    XL 

SHELLEY   AND    BYRON   AT   PISA. 

Early  in  the  year  1821,  the  Shelley s  made  the 
acquaintance  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Williams,  the  former  of 
whom  was  drowned  with  the  poet.  Mrs.  Shelley  says 
of  him  that  no  man  "  ever  existed  more  gentle,  generous, 
and  fearless."  Like  his  illustrious  friend,  he  was  a  great 
lover  of  boating,  and  the  two  were  frequently  on  the 
water  together,  before  the  day  which  proved  fatal  to  both. 
Shelley,  indeed,  enjoyed  a  good  deal  of  his  favorite  recre- 
ation during  this  year.  The  shallow  waters  of  the  Arno, 
on  which  no  ordinary  vessel  can  float,  did  not  prove  any 
obstacle  to  him ;  he  contrived  a  boat  "  such  as  the  hunts- 
men carry  about  with  them  in  the  Maremma,  to  cross  the 
sluggish  but  deep  streams  that  intersect  the  forest  —  a 
boat  of  laths  and  pitched  canvas."  *  In  this  he  fre- 
quently took  little  trips  on  the  Arno,  though  his  Italian 
friends,  seeing  the  peril  which  he  ran,  used  to  remonstrate 
with  him,  and  to  prophesy  —  with  too  much  truth  —  that 

*  Mrs.  Shelley. 


162  SHELLEY   MEMORIALS. 

the  amusement  would  lead  to  his  death.  On  one  occa- 
sion, when  he  had  been  with  a  friend  down  the  Arno  and 
round  the  coast  to  Leghorn,  he  returned  by  the  canal, 
when  the  skiff  got  entangled  amongst  some  weeds,  and 
was  upset.  The  intense  cold  made  Shelley  faint ;  but  no 
further  harm  was  done.  "  Once,"  writes  Mrs.  Shelley, 
"  I  went  down  with  him  to  the  mouth  of  the  Arno,  where 
the  stream,  then  high  and  swift,  met  the  tideless  sea,  and 
disturbed  its  sluggish  waters.  It  was  a  waste  and  dreary 
scene ;  the  desert  sand  stretched  into  a  point  surrounded 
by  waves  that  broke  idly,  though  perpetually,  around." 

But  the  water  was  far  from  engrossing  Shelley's 
thoughts  at  this  time.  The  south  of  Europe  had  awak- 
ened from  its  lethargy  into  a  state  of  high  political  excite- 
ment, and  it  seemed  as  if  the  age  of  liberty  were  dawning 
in  several  places.  Spain  and  Naples  had  been  revolu- 
tionized in  the  previous  year  ;  and  the  northern  and 
central  parts  of  Italy  now  endeavored  to  follow  the  ex- 
ample. Several  insurrectionary  movements  were  attended 
by  temporary  success  ;  Tuscany  alone,  owing  to  the  be- 
nevolent rule  of  its  prince,  remained  tranquil ;  but,  in  the 
end,  the  patriots  were  crushed  beneath  the  weight  of 
Austrian  armies.  At  the  same  period,  however,  a  revo- 
lution began  in  a  country  farther  east,  which  was  destined 
to  result,  to  a  certain  extent,  in  success,  though  Shelley 
did  not  live  long  enough  to  behold  the  issue.  Greece 
declared  itself  independent  of  Ottoman  domination  ;  and 
these  combined  attacks  on  the  general  foe  filled  Shelley 
with  the  utmost  enthusiasm.  Some  Greeks  were  at  that 
time  at  Pisa ;  and  amongst  them  was  Prince  Mavrocor- 


SHELLEY    AND    BYRON   AT    PISA.  163 

dato,  to  whom  Hellas  is  dedicated.  On  the  1st  of  April, 
this  gentleman  called  on  the  Shelleys,  and  told  them  that 
his  cousin,  Prince  Ipsilantj,  had  issued  a  proclamation  (a 
copy  of  which  he  brought  with  him),  and  that  Greece 
thenceforward  would  be  free.  The  emotions  of  joy  and 
hope  kindled  by  this  intelligence  in  the  mind  of  the  poet 
produced  the  lyrical  drama  of  Hellas,  of  which  Shelley 
records,  in  his  preface,  that  it  was  "  written  at  the  sugges- 
tion of  the  events  of  the  moment,  is  a  mere  improvise, 
and  derives  its  interest  (should  it  be  found  to  possess 
any)  solely  from  the  intense  sympathy  which  the  author 
feels  with  the  cause  he  would  celebrate."  Nevertheless, 
it  contains  passages  of  great  power,  and  lyrics  of  the 
utmost  sweetness. 

In  the  same  year,  Shelley  wrote  that  piece  of  radiant 
mysticism  and  rapturous  melody,  Epipsychidion.  The 
subject  of  this  poem  —  "  the  noble  and  unfortunate  Lady 

Emilia  V ,"  was  the  daughter  of  an  Italian   count, 

and  was  shut  up  in  a  convent  by  her  father  until  such 
time  as  he  could  find  for  her  a  husband  of  whom  he  ap- 
proved. In  this  dreary  prison,  Shelley  saw  her,  and 
was  struck  by  her  amazing  beauty,  by  the  highly  culti- 
vated grace  of  her  mind,  and  by  the  misery  which  she 
suffered  in  being  debarred  from  all  sympathy.  She  was 
subsequently  married  to  a  gentleman  chosen  for  her  by 
her  father  ;  and,  after  pining  in  his  society,  and  in  the 
marshy  solitudes  of  the  Maremma,  for  six  years,  she 
left  him,  with  the  consent  of  her  parent,  and  died  of 
consumption  in  a  dilapidated  old  mansion  at  Florence. 
This  occurred  long  after  the  death  of  Shelley,  who  used 


164  SHELLEY   MEMORIALS. 

frequently  to  visit  her  while  she  was  living  in  the  con- 
vent, and  to  do  his  utmost  to  ameliorate  her  wretched 
condition.  In  return,  she  was.  in  the  habit  of  sending 
him  bouquets  of  flowers  ;  and  one  of  these  presents  he 
thus  acknowledged :  — 

"  Madonna,  wherefore  hast  thou  sent  to  me 

Sweet  basil  and  mignonette  ? 
Embleming  love  and  health,  which  never  yet 
In  the  same  wreath  might  be. 

Alas !  and  they  are  wet ! 
Is  it  with  thy  kisses  or  thy  tears? 

For  never  rain  or  dew 

Such  fragrance  drew 
From  plant  or  flower.    The  very  doubt  endears 

My  sadness  ever  new, 
The  sighs  I  breathe,  the  tears  I  shed,  for  thee." 

Another  of  Shelley's  compositions  belonging  to  the 
year  1821  is  his  Adonais.  This  is  a  monody  on  the 
death  of  Keats,  who  expired  at  Rome  on  the  27th  of 
December,  1820,  of  consumption.  He  was  attended  in 
his  last  illness  by  his  friend,  Mr.  Severn,  who  devoted 
himself  to  the  dying  man.  They  were  alone,  and  were 
overtaken  by  poverty;  and  Mr.  Severn  (who  was  an 
artist)  not  only  watched  by  the  bedside  of  the  young 
poet,  day  and  night,  soothing  him  in  the  midst  of  his 
frightful  paroxysms  of  mental  and  bodily  anguish,  but 
painted  small  pictures  during  his  leisure  moments,  and, 
sallying  forth  unobserved,  sold  them  to  procure  the 
necessary  funds.  Yet  even  this  beautiful  devotion  could 
not  save  Keats  from  death  ;  and  he  now  lies  in  the 
Protestant  burial-ground,  whither  the  ashes  of  him  who 


SHELLEY   AND    BYRON    AT   PISA.  165 

has  celebrated  his  genius  in  verse  lasting   as  his  own 
were  destined  shortly  to  follow  him. 

Adonais  abounds  in  passion  and  poetry ;  in  bursts  of 
eloquent  grief;  in  profound  glimpses  into  the  divine  mys- 
tery of  the  universe  and  of  the  soul  of  man  ;  and  of 
keen,  arrowy  flashes  of  scorn,  directed  against  those 
hirelings  of  party  who  endeavored  to  crush  the  genius 
of  Keats,  simply  because  he  was  known  to  be  the  friend 
of  men  who  dared  to  speak  on  behalf  of  freedom  when 
to  do  so  was  considered  an  eighth  deadly  sin.  But 
Shelley  was  mistaken  in  supposing  that  the  death  of 
Keats  was  accelerated  by  the  contemptible  treatment  he 
had  met  with.  He  regarded  such  things  with  indiffer- 
ence, and  died  from  causes  of  a  much  deeper  kind. 

Of  the  funeral  of  Keats,  Shelley  records  in  the  pref- 
ace to  Adonais,  that  he  "  was  burried  in  the  romantic 
and  lonely  cemetery  of  the  Protestants,  under  the  pyra- 
mid which  is  the  tomb  of  Cestius,  and  the  massy  walls 
and  towers,  now  mouldering  and  desolate,  which  formed 
the  circuit  of  ancient  Rome.  The  cemetery  is  an  open 
space  among  the  ruins,  covered  in  winter  with  violets 
and  daisies.  It  might  make  one  in  love  with  death,  to 
think  that  one  should  be  buried  in  so  sweet  a  place." 

On  the  29th  of  November,  1821,  Shelley  wrote  to 
Mr.  Severn,  from  Pisa,  on  the  subject  of  the  death  of 
Keats :  — 

"  Dear  Sir, 

"  I  send  you  the  elegy  on  poor  Keats,  and  I  wish  it  were 
better  worth  your  acceptance.     You  will  see,  by  the  preface, 


166  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

that  it  was  written  before  I  could  obtain  any  particular  ac- 
count of  his  last  moments ;  all  that  I  still  know  was  communi- 
cated to  me  by  a  friend,  who  had  derived  his  information 
from  Colonel  Finch.  I  have  ventured  to  express,  as  I  felt, 
the  respect  and  admiration  which  your  conduct  towards  him 
demands. 

"  In  spite  of  his  transcendent  genius,  Keats  never  was,  nor 
ever  will  be,  a  popular  poet ;  and  the  total  neglect  and  ob- 
scurity in  which  the  astonishing  remnants  of  his  mind  still 
lie,  was  hardly  to  be  dissipated  by  a  writer  who,  however  he 
may  differ  from  Keats  in  more  important  qualities,  at  least 
resembles  him  in  that  accidental  one,  a  want  of  popu- 
larity. 

"  I  have  little  hope,  therefore,  that  the  poem  I  send  you 
will  excite '  any  attention,  nor  do  I  feel  assured  that  a  critical 
notice  of  his  writings  would  find  a  single  reader.  But  for 
these  considerations,  it  had  been  my  intention  to  have  col- 
lected the  remnants  of  his  compositions,  and  to  have  pub- 
lished them  with  a  life  and  criticism.  Has  he  left  any  poems, 
or  writings  of  whatsoever  kind,  and  in  whose  possession  are 
they  ?  Perhaps  you  would  oblige  me  by  information  on  this 
point. 

"  Percy  B.  Shelley." 

With  respect  to  his  JEpipsychidion,  and  to  one  or  two 
other  poems,  Shelley  thus  writes  to  Mr.  Oilier  :  — 

"Pisa,  Feb.  16th,  1821. 
"  Dear  Sir, 

"  I  send  you  three  poems  —  Ode  to  Naples,  a  sonnet, 
and  a  longer  piece,  entitled  Epipsychidion.  The  two  former 
are  my  own;  and  you  ^ill  be  so  obliging  as  to  take  the 
first  opportunity  of  publishing  according  to  your  own  dis- 
cretion. 

"  The  longer  poem,  I  desire,  should  not  be  considered  as 
my  own  ;  indeed,  in  a  certain  sense,  it  is  a  production  of  a 
portion  of  me  already  dead ;  and  in  this  sense  the  advertise- 


SHELLEY   AND    BYRON    AT   PISA.  1G7 

ment  is  no  fiction.*  It  is  to  be  published  simply  for  the 
esoteric  few ;  and  I  make  its  author  a  secret,  to  avoid  the 
malignity  of  those  who  turn  sweet  food  into  poison  ;  trans- 
forming all  they  touch  into  the  corruption  of  their  own  na- 
tures. My  wish  with  respect  to  it  is,  that  it  should  be  printed 
immediately  in  the  simplest  form,  and  merely  one  hundred 
copies ;  those  who  are  capable  of  judging  and  feeling  rightly 
with  respect  to  a  composition  of  so  abtruse  a  nature,  certainly 
do  not  arrive  at  that  number — among  those,  at  least,  who 
would  ever  be  excited  to  read  an  obscure  and  anonymous  pro- 
duction ;  and  it  would  give  me  no  pleasure  that  the  vulgar 
should  read  it.  If  you  have  any  bookselling  reason  against 
publishing  so  small  a  number  as  a  hundred,  merely,  distrib- 
ute copies  among  those  to  whom  you  think  the  poetry  would 
afford  any  pleasure,  and  send  me,  as  soon  as  you  can,  a  copy 
by  the  post.  I  have  written  it  so  as  to  give  very  little  trouble, 
I  hope,  to  the  printer,  or  to  the  person  who  revises.  I  would 
be  much  obliged  to  you  if  you  would  take  this  office  on 
yourself. 

"  Is  there  any  expectation  of  a  second  edition  of  the  Revolt 
of  Mam  ?  I  have  many  corrections  to  make  in  it,  and  one 
part  will  be  wholly  remodelled.  I  am  employed  in  high  and 
new  designs  in  verse ;  but  they  are  the  labors  of  years, 
perhaps. 

"  We  expect  here  every  day  the  news  of  a  battle  between 
the  armies  of  Austria  and  Naples.  The  latter  have  advanced 
upon  Rome ;  and  the  first  affair  will  probably  take  place  in 
the  Ecclesiastical  States.  You  may  imagine  the  expectation 
of  all  here. 

"  Pray  send  me  news   of  my  intellectual  children.     For 

*  In  his  preface  he  speaks  o'J  the  poem  as  having  been  written  by 
a  person  who  "  died  at  Florence,  as  he  was  preparing  for  a  voyage  to 
one  of  the  wildest  of  the  Sporades,  which  he  had  bought,  and  where 
it  was  his  hope  to  have  realized  a  scheme  of  life  suited,  perhaps,  to 
that  happier  and  better  world  of  which  he  is  now  an  inhabitant,  but 
hardly  practicable  in  this."     The  preface  is  signed  "  S."  —  Ed. 


168  SHELLEY   MEMORIALS. 

Prometheus,  I  expect  and  desire  no  great  sale.     The  Cenci 
ought  to  have  been  popular. 

"  I  remain,  dear  Sir, 

"  Your  very  obedient  servant, 

"Percy  B.  Shelley." 

Some  idea  of  the  reception  given  to  the  Epipsychidion 
may  be  derived  from  a  letter  written  by  Shelley,  in 
the   course   of   October,   to   Mr.    Gisborne.      He   here 

says : — 

"  The  Epipsychidion  is  a  mystery ;  as  to  real  flesh  and 
blood,  you  know  that  I  do  not  deal  in  those  articles ;  you  might 
as  well  go  to  a  gin-shop  for  a  leg  of  mutton,  as  expect  any- 
thing human  or  earthly  from  me.  I  desired  Oilier  not  to  cir- 
culate this  piece,  except  to  the  oweTbt,  and  even  they,  it  seems, 
are  inclined  to  approximate  me  to  the  circle  of  a  servant-girl 
and  her  sweetheart.  But  I  intend  to  write  a  Symposium  of 
my  own,  to  set  all  this  right." 


FROM    SHELLEY   TO    MR.    OLLIER. 

"  Pisa,  Feb.  22d,  1821. 
"Dear  Sir, 

"Peacock's  essay  is  at  Florence  at  present.  I  have 
sent  for  it,  and  will  transmit  to  you  my  paper  [on  Poetry]  as 
soon  as  it  is  written,  which  will  be  in  a  very  few  days.  Nev- 
ertheless, I  should  be  sorry  that  you  delayed  your  Magazine 
through  any  dependence  on  me.  I  will  not  accept  anything 
for  this  paper,  as  I  had  determined  to  write  it,  and  prom- 
ised it  you,  before  I  heard  of  your  liberal  arrangements ;  but 
perhaps  in  future,  if  I  think  I  have  any  thoughts  worth  pub- 
lishing, I  shall  be  glad  to  contribute  to  your  Magazine  on 
those  terms.     Meanwhile,  you  are  perfectly  at  liberty  to  pub- 


SHELLEY   AND    BYRON   AT   PISA.  169 

lish  the  Ode  to  Naples,  the  sonnet,  or  any  short  piece  you  may- 
have  of  mine. 

"  I  suppose  Julian  and  Maddalo  is  published.  If  not,  do 
not  add  the  Witch  of  Atlas  to  that  peculiar  piece  of  writing ; 
you  may  put  my  name  to  the  Witch  of  Atlas,  as  usual.  The 
piece  I  last  sent  you,  I  wish,  as  I  think  I  told  you,  to  be 
printed  immediately,  and  that  anonymously.  I  should  be 
very  glad  to  receive  a  few  copies  of  it  by  the  box,  but  I  am 
unwilling  that  it  should  be  any  longer  delayed. 

"  I  doubt  about  Charles  the  First ;  but,  if  I  do  write  it,  it 
shall  be  the  birth  of  severe  and  high  feelings.  You  are  very 
welcome  to  it  on  the  terms  you  mention,  and,  when  once  I  see 
and  feel  that  I  can  write  it,  it  is  already  written.*  My 
thoughts  aspire  to  a  production  of  a  far  higher  character ;  but 
the  execution  of  it  will  require  some  years.  I  write  what  I 
write  chiefly  to  inquire,  by  the  reception  which  my  writings 
meet  with,  how  far  I  am  fit  for  so  great  a  task,  or  not.  And 
I  am  afraid  that  your  account  will  not  present  me  with  a  very 
flattering  result  in  this  particular. 

"  You  may  expect  to  hear  from  me  within  a  week,  with  the 
answer  to  Peacock.  I  shall  endeavor  to  treat  the  subject  in 
its  elements,  and  unveil  the  inmost  idol  of  the  error. 

"  If  any  Review  of  note  abuses  me  excessively,  or  the  con- 
trary, be  so  kind  as  to  send  it  me  by  post. 

"  If  not  too  late,  pray  send  me  by  the  box  the  following 
books:  The  most  copious  and  correct  history  of  the  discov- 
eries of  Geology.  If  one  publication  does  not  appear  to  con- 
lain  what  I  require,  send  me  two  or  three.  A  history  of  the 
late  war  in  Spain ;  I  think  one  has  been  written  by  Southey. 
Major  Somebody's  account  of  the  siege  of  Zaragoza;  it  is  a 
little  pamphlet.  Burnet's  History  of  his  Own  Times;  and 
the  Old  English  Drama,  3  vols. 

"  Excuse  my  horrible  pens,  ink,  and  paper.  I  can  get  no 
pen  that  will  mark ;  or,  if  you  will  not  excuse  them,  send  me 
out  some  English  ones. 

*  The  play  wns  never  finished.  —  Ed. 


170  SHELLEY   MEMORIALS. 

"  I  am  delighted  to  hear  of  Procter's  success,  and  hope  that 
he  will  proceed  gathering  laurels.      Pray  tell  me   how  the 
Prometheus  Unbound  was  received. 
«  Dear  Sir, 

"  Your  very  obliged  servant, 

"Percy  B.  Shelley." 


FROM  THE  SAME  TO  THE  SAME. 

"Pisa,  June  Sth,  1821. 
"  Dear  Sir, 

"You  may  announce  for  publication  a  poem  entitled 
Adonais.  It  is  a  lament  on  the  death  of  poor  Keats,  with 
some  interposed  stabs  on  the  assassins  of  his  peace  and  of  his 
fame ;  and  will  be  preceded  by  a  criticism  on  Hyperion,  as- 
serting the  due  claims  which  that  fragment  gives  him  to  the 
rank  which  I  have  assigned  him.  My  poem  is  finished,  and 
consists  of  about  forty  Spenser  stanzas.  I  shall  send  it  you, 
either  printed  at  Pisa,  or  transcribed  in  such  a  manner  as  it 
shall  be  difficult  for  the  reviser  to  leave  such  errors  as  assist 
the  obscurity  of  the  Prometheus.  But,  in  case  I  send  it 
printed,  it  will  be  merely  that  mistakes  may  be  avoided ;  [so] 
that  I  shall  only  have  a  few  copies  struck  off  in  the  cheapest 
manner. 

"  If  you  have  interest  enough  in  the  subject,  I  could  wish 
that  you  inquired  of  some  of  the  friends  and  relations  of  Keats 
respecting  the  circumstances  of  his  death,  and  could  transmit 
me  any  information  you  may  be  able  to  collect,  and  especially 
as  to  the  degree  in  which,  as  I  am  assured,  the  brutal  attack 
in  the  Quarterly  Review  excited  the  disease  by  which  he  per- 
ished. 

"  I  have  received  no  answer  to  my  last  letter  to  you.     Have 
you  received  my  contribution  to  your  Magazine  ? 
"  Dear  Sir, 

"  Yours  very  sincerely, 

"P.  B.  Shelley." 


SHELLEY    AND    BYRON    AT    TISA.  171 

FROM    SHELLEY   TO    MR.    OLLIER. 

"  Pisa,  March  20*7*,  1821. 
"  Dear  Sir, 

"I   send  you  the  Defence  of  Poetry,  Part  I.      It  is 
transcribed,  I  hope,  legibly. 

"  I  have  written  nothing  which  I  do  not  think  necessary  to 
the  subject.  Of  course,  if  any  expressions  should  strike  you 
as  too  unpopular,  I  give  you  the  power  of  omitting  them ;  but 
I  trust  you  will,  if  possible,  refrain  from  exercising  it.  In  fact, 
I  hope  that  I  have  treated  the  question  with  that  temper  and 
spirit  as  to  silence  cavil.  I  propose  to  add  two  other  parts  in 
two  succeeding  Miscellanies.  It  is  to  be  understood  that 
although  you  may  omit,  you  do  not  alter  or  add. 
"  Pray  let  me  hear  from  you  soon. 
"  Dear  Sir, 

"  Yours  very  sincerely, 

"P.  B.  S." 


FROM  THE  SAME  TO  THE  SAME. 

"Pisa,  September  25th,  1821. 
"Dear  Sir, 

"  It  will  give  me  great  pleasure  if  I  can  arrange  the 
affair  of  Mrs.  Shelley's  novel  with  you  to  her  and  your  satis- 
faction. She  has  a  specific  purpose  in  the  sum  which  she 
instructed  me  to  require;  and,  although  this  purpose  could 
not  be  answered  without  ready  money,  yet  I  should  find  means 
to  answer  her  wishes  in  that  point,  if  you  could  make  it  con- 
venient to  pay  one  third  at  Christmas,  and  give  bills  for  the 
other  two  thirds  at  twelve  and  eighteen  months.  It  would 
give  me  peculiar  satisfaction  that  you,  rather  than  any  other 
person,  should  be  the  publisher  of  this  work  ;  it  is  the  product 
of  no  slight  labor,  and,  I  flatter  myself,  of  no  common  talent. 
I  doubt  not  it  will  give  no  less  credit  than  it  will  receive  from 


172  SHELLEY   MEMORIALS. 

your  names.  I  trust  you  know  me  too  well  to  believe  that  my 
judgment  deliberately  given  in  testimony  of  the  value  of  any 
production  is  influenced  by  motives  of  interest  or  partiality. 

"  The  romance  is  called  Castruccio,  Prince  of  Lucca,  and 
is  founded  (not  upon  the  novel  of  Macchiavelli  under  that 
name,  which  substitutes  a  childish  fiction  for  the  far  more  ro- 
mantic truth  of  history,  but)  upon  the  actual  story  of  his  life. 
He  was  a  person  who,  from  an  exile  and  an  adventurer,  after 
having  served  in  the  wars  of  England  and  Flanders  in  the 
reign  of  our  Edward  the  Second,  returned  to  his  native  city, 
and,  liberating  it  from  its  tyrants,  became  himself  its  tyrant, 
and  died  in  the  full  splendor  of  his  dominion,  which  he  had 
extended  over  the  half  of  Tuscany.  He  was  a  little  Napo- 
leon, and,  with  a  dukedom  instead  of  an  empire  for  his  the- 
atre, brought  upon  the  same  all  the  passions  and  the  errors  of 
his  antitype.  The  chief  interest  of  the  romance  rests  upon 
Euthanasia,  his  betrothed  bride,  whose  love  for  him  is  only 
equalled  by  her  enthusiasm  for  the  liberty  of  the  republic  of 
Florence,  which  is  in  some  sort  her  country,  and  for  that  of 
Italy,  to  which  Castruccio  is  a  devoted  enemy,  being  an  ally 
of  the  party  of  the  Emperor.  This  character  is  a  master- 
piece ;  and  the  keystone  of  the  drama,  which  is  built  up  with 
admirable  art,  is  the  conflict  between  these  passions  and  these 
principles.  Euthanasia,  the  last  survivor  of  a  noble  house,  is 
a  feudal  countess,  and  her  castle  is  the  scene  of  the  exhibition 
of  the  knightly  manners  of  the  time.  The  character  of  Bea- 
trice, the  prophetess,  can  only  be  done  justice  to  in  the  very 
language  of  the  author.  I  know  nothing  in  Walter  Scrott's 
novels  which  at  all  approaches  to  the  beauty  and  the  sublimity 
of  this  —  creation,  I  may  almost  say,  for  it  is  perfectly  orig- 
inal ;  and,  although  founded  upon  the  ideas  and  manners  of 
the  age  which  is  represented,  is  wholly  without  a  similitude  in 
any  fiction  I  ever  read.  Beatrice  is  in  love  with  Castruccio, 
and  dies  ;  for  the  romance,  although  interspersed  with  much 
lighter  matter,  is  deeply  tragic,  and  the  shades  darken  and 
gather  as  the  catastrophe  approaches.     All  the  manners,  cus- 


SHELLEY    AND    BYRON    AT    PISA.  173 

toms,  opinions  of  the  age  are  introduced;  the  superstitions, 
the  heresies,  and  the  religious  persecutions,  are  displayed ;  the 
minutest  circumstance  of  Italian  manners  in  that  age  is  not 
omitted ;  and  the  whole  seems  to  me  to  constitute  a  living  and 
a  moving  picture  of  an  age  almost  forgotten.  The  author 
visited  the  scenery  which  she  describes  in  person ;  and  one 
or  two  of  the  inferior  characters  are  drawn  from  her  own  ob- 
servation of  the  Italians,  for  the  national  character  shows 
itself  still  in  certain  instances  under  the  same  forms  as  it  wore 
in  the  time  of  Dante.*  The  novel  consists,  as  I  told  you  be- 
fore, of  three  volumes,  each  at  least  equal  to  one  of  the  Tales 
of  my  Landlord,  and  they  will  be  very  soon  ready  to  be  sent. 
In  case  you  should  accept  the  present  offer,  I  will  make  one 
observation  which  I  consider  of  essential  importance.  It 
ought  to  be  printed  in  half  volumes  at  a  time,  and  sent  to  the 
author  for  her  last  corrections  by  the  post.  It  may  be  printed 
on  thin  paper  like  that  of  this  letter,  and  the  expense  shall 
fall  upon  me.  Lord  Byron  has  his  works  sent  in  this  manner ; 
and  no  person,  who  has  either  fame  to  lose  or  money  to  win, 
ought  to  publish  in  any  other  manner. 

"  By  the  bye,  how  do  I  stand  with  regard  to  these  two  great 
objects  of  human  pursuit  ?  I  once  sought  something  nobler 
and  better  than  either ;  but  I  might  as  well  have  reached  at 
the  moon,  and  now,  finding  that  I  have  grasped  the  air,  I 
should  not  be  sorry  to  know  what  substantial  sum,  especially 
of  the  former,  is  in  your  hands  on  my  account.     The  gods 

*The  book  here  alluded  to  was  ultimately  published  under  the 
title  of  Valperga.  Mrs.  Shelley  received  400J.  for  the  copyright ;  and 
this  sura  was  generously  devoted  to  the  relief  of  Godwin's  pecuniary 
difficulties.  In  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Gisborne,  dated  June  30th,  1821,  Mrs. 
Shelley  says  that  she  firet  formed  the  conception  at  Marlow ;  that  this 
took  a  more  definite  shape  at  Naples ;  that  the  work  was  delayed  sev- 
eral times;  and  that  it  was  "a  child  of  mighty  slow  growth."  It 
was  also,  -she  says,  a  work  of  labor,  as  she  had  read  and  consulted  a 
great  many  books. —  Ed. 


174  SHELLEY   MEMORIALS 

have  made  the  reviewers  the  almoners  of  this  worldly  dross, 
and  I  think  I  must  write  an  ode  to  flatter  them  to  give  me 
some  ;  if  I  would  not  that  they  put  me  off  with  a  bill  on  pos- 
terity, which  when  my  ghost  shall  present,  the  answer  will  be 
— •  no  effects/ 

"  Charles  the  First  is  conceived,  but  not  born.  Unless  I  am 
sure  of  making  something  good,  the  play  will  not  be  written. 
Pride,  that  ruined  Satan,  will  kill  Charles  the  First,  for  his 
midwife  would  be  only  less  than  him  whom  thunder  has  made 
greater.  I  am  full  of  great  plans ;  and,  if  I  should  tell  you 
them,  I  should  add  to  the  list  of  these  riddles. 

"  I  have  not  seen  Mr.  Procter's  Mirandola.  Send  it  me  in 
the  box,  and  pray  send  me  the  box  immediately.  It  is  of  the 
utmost  consequence;  and,  as  you  are  so  obliging  as  to  say 
you  will  not  neglect  my  commissions,  pray  send  this  without 
delay.  I  hope  it  is  sent,  indeed,  and  that  you  have  recollected 
to  send  me  several  copies  of  Prometheus,  the  Revolt  of  Islam, 
and  the  Cenci,  &c,  as  I  requested  you.  Is  there  any  chance 
of  a  second  edition  of  the  Revolt  of  Islam  ?  I  could  materi- 
ally improve  that  poem  on  revision.  The  Adonais,  in  spite 
of  its  mysticism,  is  the  least  imperfect  of  my  compositions,  and, 
as  the  image  of  my  regret  and  honor  for  poor  Keats,  I  wish  it 
to  be  so.  I  shall  write  to  you,  probably,  by  next  post,  on  the 
subject  of  that  poem,  and  should  have  sent  the  promised  crit- 
icism for  the  second  edition,  had  I  not  mislaid,  and  in  vain 
sought  for,  the  volume  that  contains  Hyperion.  Pray  give  me 
notice  against  what  time  you  want  the  second  part  of  my  De- 
fence of  Poetry.  I  give  you  this  Defence,  and  you  may  do 
what  you  will  with  it. 

"  Pray  give  me  an  immediate  answer  about  the  novel. 
"  I  am,  my  dear  Sir, 

"  Your  very  obliged  servant, 

"  Percy  B.  Shelley. 

"I  ought  to  tell  you  that  the  novel  has  not  the  smallest 
tincture  of  any  peculiar  theories  in  politics  or  religion." 


SHELLEY   AND    BYRON    AT    PISA.  175 

FROM    SHELLEY    TO    MR.    OLLIER. 

11  Pisa,  Nov.  Uth,  1821. 
"Dear  Sir, 

"  I  send  you  the  drama  of  Hellas,  relying  on  your  assur- 
ance that  you  will  be  good  enough  to  pay  immediate  attention 
to  my  literary  requests.  What  little  interest  this  poem  may 
ever  excite,  depends  upon  its  immediate  publication ;  I  entreat 
you,  therefore,  to  have  the  goodness  to  send  the  MS.  instantly 
to  a  printer,  and  the  moment  you  get  a  proof  despatch  it  to 
me  by  the  post.  The  whole  might  be  sent  at  once.  Lord  By- 
ron has  his  poem  sent  to  him  in  this  manner,  and  I  cannot  see 
that  the  inferiority  in  the  composition  of  a  poem  can  affect  the 
powers  of  a  printer  in  the  matter  of  despatch,  &c.  If  any 
passages  should  alarm  you  in  the  notes,  you  are  at  liberty  to 
suppress  them ;  the  poem  contains  nothing  of  a  tendency  to 
danger. 

"  Do  not  forget  my  other  questions.  I  am  especially  curious 
to  hear  the  fate  of  Adonais.  I  confess  I  should  be  surprised 
if  that  poem  were  born  to  an  immortality  of  oblivion. 

"  Within  a  few  days  I  may  have  to  write  to  you  on  a  sub- 
ject of  greater  interest.     Meanwhile,  I  rely  on  your  kindness 
for  carrying  my  present  request  into  immediate  effect. 
"  Dear  Sir, 

"  Your  very  faithful  servant, 

"Percy  B.  Shelley. 

"  I  need  not  impress  on  you  the  propriety  of  giving  a 
speedy  answer  to  Mrs.  S.'s  proposal.  Her  volumes  are  now 
ready  for  the  press.    The  Ode  to  Napoleon  to  print  at  the  end." 

The  calumnies  heaped  upon  Shelley  by  his  unscrupu- 
lous detractors  often  gave  him  great  pain.  In  writing  to 
Mr.  Oilier,  on  the  11th  of  June,,  1821,  he  says:  — "I 
hear  that  the  abuse  against  me  exceeds  all  bounds.   Pray, 


176  SHELLEY   MEMORIALS. 

if  you  see  any  one  article  particularly  outrageous,  send  it 
me.  As  yet,  I  have  laughed ;  but  woe  to  these  scoun- 
drels if  they  should  once  make  me  lose  my  temper !  I 
have  discovered  that  my  calumniator  in  the  Quarterly 
Review  was  the  Rev.  Mr.  Milman.  Priests  have  their 
privilege." 

Malicious  reports  seemed  to  track  him  wherever  he 
went ;  and  one  of  these  is  the  subject  of  some  letters 
which  will  be  found  below.  Mrs.  Shelley  writes  in  her 
journal,  under  date  August  4th  :  —  "  Shelley  is  gone  to 
see  Lord  Byron  at  Ravenna.  This  is  his  [Shelley's] 
birthday ;  seven  years  are  now  gone  —  what  changes  ! 
We  now  appear  tranquil ;  yet  who  knows  what  wind  — 
But  I  will  not  prognosticate  evil ;  we  have  had  enough 
of  it.  When  we  arrived  in  Italy,  I  said,  all  is  well  if  it 
were  permanent.  It  was  more  passing  than  an  Italian 
twilight.  I  now  say  the  same :  may  it  be  a  Polar  day ! 
—  yet  that,  too,  has  an  end."  They  had  passed  a  very 
pleasant  summer,  having  both  derived  great  enjoyment 
from  frequently  going  to  see  some  friends  living  at  the 
village  of  Pugnano.  They  reached  that  place  by  the 
canal,'  "  which,  fed  by  the  Serchio,  was,  though  an  arti- 
ficial, a  full  and  picturesque  stream,  making  its  way 
under  verdant  banks  sheltered  by  trees  that  dipped  their 
boughs  into  the  murmuring  waters.  By  day,  multitudes 
of  ephemera  darted  to  and  fro  on  the  surface  ;  at  night, 
the  fire-flies  came  out  among  the  shrubs  on  the  banks  ; 
the  cicale  at  noonday  kept  up  their  hum  ;  the  aziola 
cooed  in  the  quiet  evening."  *  Yet,  as  Mrs.  Shelley 
*  Notes  to  the  Poems. 


SHELLEY    AND    BYRON   AT   PISA..  177 

prognosticated  in  her  diary,  their  happiness  was  soon  to 
be  dashed.  Shelley  writes  from  Ravenna  on  August 
7th:  — 

"My  dearest  Mary, 

"  I  arrived  last  night  at  ten  o'clock,  and  sat  up  talking 
with  Lord  Byron  until  five  o'clock  this  morning.  I  then  went  to 
sleep,  and  now  awake  at  eleven,  and,  having  despatched  my 
breakfast  as  quick  as  possible,  mean  to  devote  the  interval 

until  twelve,  when  the  post  departs,  to  you 

"  Lord  Byron  has  told  me  of  a  circumstance  that  shocks  me 
exceedingly,  because  it  exhibits  a  degree  of  desperate  and 
wicked  malice  for  which  I  am  at  a  loss  to  account.  When  I 
hear  such  things,  my  patience  and  my  philosophy  are  put  to  a 
severe  proof,  whilst  I  refrain  from  seeking  out  some  obscure 
hiding-place,  where  the  countenance  of  man  may  never  meet 

me  more. 

***** 

"  Imagine  my  despair  of  good ;  imagine  how  it  is  possible 
that  one  of  so  weak  and  sensitive  a  nature  as  mine  can  run 
further  the  gauntlet  through  this  hellish  society  of  men.  You 
should  write  to  the  Hoppners  a  letter  refuting  the  charge,  in 
case  you  believe  and  know,  and  can  prove  that  it  is  false ; 
stating  the  grounds  and  proofs  of  your  belief  I  need  not  dic- 
tate what  you  should  say ;  nor,  I  hope,  inspire  you  with  warmth 
to  rebut  a  charge  which  you  only  effectually  can  rebut." 

To  this  letter,  Mrs.  Shelley  thus  replied  :  — 

"My  dear  Shelley, 

"  Shocked  beyond  all  measure  as  I  was,  I  instantly  wrote 
the  enclosed.  If  the  task  be  not  too  dreadful,  pray  copy  it  for 
me.     I  cannot. 

M  Read  that  part  of  your  letter  which  contains  the  accusa- 
tion. I  tried,  but  I  could  not  write  it.  I  think  I  could  as  soon 
have  died.  I  send  also  Elise's  last  letter ;  enclose  it  or  not,  as 
you  think  best. 

8* 


178  SHELLEY   MEMORIALS. 

"  I  wrote  to  you  with  far  different  feelings  last  night,  beloved 
friend.  Our  bark  is  indeed  '  tempest-tost ; '  but  love  me,  as 
you  have  ever  done,  and  God  preserve  my  child  to  me,  and 
our  enemies  shall  not  be  too  much  for  us.  Consider  well  if 
Florence  be  a  fit  residence  for  us.  I  love,  I  own,  to  face 
danger ;  but  I  would  not  be  imprudent. 

"  Pray  get  my  letter  to  Mrs.  H.  copied,  for  a  thousand  rea- 
sons. Adieu,  dearest !  Take  care  of  yourself —  all  yet  is  well. 
The  shock  for  me  is  over,  and  I  now  despise  the  slander ;  but 
it  must  not  pass  uncontradicted.  I  sincerely  thank  Lord 
Byron  for  his  kind  unbelief. 

"Affectionately  yours, 

"M.  W.  S." 

"  Friday. 
"  Do  not  think  me  imprudent  in  mentioning  C.'s  illness  at 
Naples.  It  is  well  to  meet  facts.  They  are  as  cunning  as 
wicked.  I  have  read  over  my  letter ;  it  is  written  in  haste ; 
but  it  were  as  well  that  the  first  burst  of  feeling  should  be 
expressed.    No  letters." 

FROM  SHELLEY  TO  MRS.  SHELLEY- 

"  Thursday,  Ravenna. 

"  I  have  received  your  letter  with  that  to  Mrs.  Hoppner. 
I  do  not  wonder,  my  dearest  friend,  that  you  should  have  been 
moved.  I  was  at  first,  but  speedily  regained  the  indifference 
which  the  opinion  of  anything  or  anybody,  except  our  own 
consciousness,  amply  merits,  and  day  by  day  shall  more  re- 
ceive from  me.  I  have  not  recopied  your  letter  —  such  a 
measure  would  destroy  its  authenticity  —  but  have  given  it  to 
Lord  Byron,  who  has  engaged  to  send  it,  with  his  own  com- 
ments, to  the  Hoppners. 

"  People  do  not  hesitate,  it  seems,  to  make  themselves  pan- 
ders and  accomplices  to  slander ;  for  the  Hoppners  had  exacted 
from  Lord  Byron  that  these  accusations  should  be  concealed 
from  me.     Lord  Byron  is  not  a  man  to  keep  a  secret,  good  or 


SHELLEY   AND    BYRON   AT    PISA.  179 

bad;  but,  in  openly  confessing  that  he  has  not  done  so,  he 
must  observe  a  certain  delicacy,  and  therefore  wished  to  send 
the  letter  himself;  and  indeed  this  adds  weight  to  your  repre- 
sentations. 

"  Have  you  seen  the  article  in  the  Literary  Gazette  on  me  ? 
They  evidently  allude  to  some  story  of  this  kind.  However 
cautious  the  Hoppners  have  been  in  preventing  the  calum- 
niated person  from  asserting  his  justification,  you  know  too 
much  of  the  world  not  to  be  certain  that  this  was  the  utmost 
limit  of  their  caution.     So  much  for  nothing. 

***** 

"  My  greatest  comfort  would  be  utterly  to  desert  all  human 
society.  I  would  retire  with  you  and  our  children  to  a  soli- 
tary island  in  the  sea ;  would  build  a  boat,  and  shut  upon  my 
retreat  the  floodgates  of  the  world.  I  would  read  no  reviews, 
and  talk  with  no  authors.  If  I  dared  trust  my  imagination,  it 
would  tell  me  that  there  are  one  or  two  chosen  companions, 
besides  yourself,  whom  I  should  desire.  But  to  this  I  would 
not  listen.  Where  two  or  three  are  gathered  together,  the 
devil  is  among  them ;  and  good,  far  more  than  evil,  impulses 
^-  love,  far  more  than  hatred  —  has  been  to  me,  except  as  you 
have  been  its  object,  the  source  of  all  sorts  of  mischief.  So,  on 
this  plan,  I  would  be  alone,  and  would  devote,  either  to  ob- 
livion or  to  future  generations,  the  overflowings  of  a  mind 
which,  timely  withdrawn  from  the  contagion,  should  be  kept 
fit  for  no  baser  object.  But  this  it  does  not  appear  that  we 
shall  do. 

"  The  other  side  of  the  alternative  (for  a  medium  ought  not 
to  be  adopted)  is  to  form  for  ourselves  a  society  of  our  own 
class,  as  much  as  possible,  in  intellect  or  in  feelings ;  and  to 
connect  ourselves  with  the  interests  of  that  society.  Our  roots 
never  struck  so  deeply  as  at  Pisa,  and  the  transplanted  tree 
flourishes  not.  People  who  lead  the  lives  which  we  led  until 
last  winter,  are  like  a  family  of  Wahabee  Arabs  pitching  their 
tent  in  the  middle  of  London.  We  must  do  one  thing  or  the 
other;  for  yourself — for  our  child  —  for  our  existence.     The 


180  SHELLEY   MEMORIALS. 

calumnies,  the  sources  of  which  are  probably  deeper  than  we 
perceive,  have  ultimately  for  object  the  depriving  us  of  the 
means  of  security  and  subsistence.  You  will  easily  perceive 
the  gradations  by  which  calumny  proceeds  to  pretext,  pretext 
to  persecution,  and  persecution  to  the  ban  of  fire  and  water. 
It  is  for  this  —  and  not  because  this  or  that  fool,  or  the  whole 
court  of  fools  curse  and  rail  —  that  calumny  is  worth  refuting 
or  chastising." 

But  from  these  painful  details  let  us  pass  to  other 
subjects. 

At  one  time  during  the  year  1821,  Shelley  thought 
of  taking  a  farm  situated  amongst  chestnut  and  pine- 
woods  on  one  of  the  hills  near  the  Serchio  —  a  position 
commanding  a  magnificent  prospect.  Another  fancy 
was  to  settle  still  further  in  the  maritime  Apennines  at 
Massa.  His  greatest  desire,  however,  was  to  spend  his 
summers  on  the  shores  of  the  sea ;  and,  having  one  day 
made  an  excursion  to  Spezzia,  he  was  so  delighted  with 
the  beauty  of  the  bay,  that  he  ultimately  took  a  house 
there.  This  was  not  until  the  following  year ;  for  it  was 
long  before  a  suitable  residence  could  be  found.  The 
Villa  Magni  was  the  name  of  the  house,  and  it  was  the 
last  which  Shelley  occupied. 

He  looked  forward,  with  great  pleasure,  to  seeing 
Leigh  Hunt  in  the  autumn  of  1821  ;  but  the  gratifica- 
tion was  delayed  till  the  following  summer.  The  jour- 
nalist was  to  join  Lord  Byron  in  the  production  of  a 
quarterly  magazine,  to  be  called  the  Liberal,  and  Byron 
wished  Shelley  to  unite  with  them.  This  the  latter  de- 
clined to  do,  because,  according  to  Mrs.  Shelley,  he  did 
not  like  to  appear  desirous  of  acquiring  readers  by  asso- 


SHELLEY   AND    BYRON    AT   PISA.  181 

dating  his  poetry  with  the  writings  of  more  popular 
authors ;  and  also  because  that  association  might  have 
had  the  effect  of  shackling  him  in  the  expression  of  his 
opinions.  But  he  subsequently  modified  his  determina- 
tion, to  the  extent  of  contributing  a  few  of  his  produc- 
tions, though  he  always  refused  to  be  in  any  way  con- 
nected with  the  undertaking  in  a  pecuniary  point  of 
view.  The  first  number  did  not  appear  till  shortly  after 
his  death. 

On  the  1st  of  November,  Byron  arrived  at  Pisa, 
where  he  established  himself.  Leigh  Hunt  did  not 
reach  Italy  till  several  months  later.  Shelley  was  now 
a  good  deal  in  the  society  of  Byron  ;  between  whom 
and  himself,  however,  a  perfect  cordiality  seemed  never 
to  exist.  The  author  of  Childe  Harold  has  confessed 
in  one  of  his  letters,  that,  much  as  he  admired  and  es- 
teemed Shelley,  the  feeling  did  not  amount  to  entire 
friendship  —  an  emotion  which  he  could  realize  only 
with  regard  to  one  of  the  companions  of  his  childhood. 
And  Shelley,  in  the  presence  of  Byron,  felt  somewhat 
oppressed  by  the  weight  of  what  he  conceived  to  be  his 
Lordship's  superior  poetical  powers ;  though  on  this  point 
the  world  is  rapidly  reversing  contemporary  judgment. 
In  writing  to  a  friend,  Shelley  speaks  of  Byron's  genius 
reducing  him  to  despair ;  an  excess  of  modesty  to  which, 
perhaps,  may  be  attributed  the  comparatively  small  num- 
ber of  his  compositions  at  this  time. 

On  the  28th  of  March,  Horace  Smith,  who  had  kindly 
undertaken  the  management  of  Shelley's  money  matters 
in  London,  addressed  a  letter  to  his  friend,  touching  the 
sudden  stoppage  of  his  income  :  — 


182  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

"  My  dear  Shelley, 

"  I  called  to-day  at  Brookes  and  Co.'s  for  your  money, 
as  usual,  and  was  not  a  little  surprised  to  be  told  that  they 
had  received  notice  not  to  advance  anything  more  on  your 
account,  as  the  payments  to  them  would  in  future  be  discon- 
tinued ;  but  they  could  give  me  no  information  why  this  alter- 
ation had  occurred,  or  whether  you  were  apprised  of  it.  Per- 
haps you  have  been,  though  you  could  hardly  have  failed  to 
mention  it  to  me.  But  I  will  call  again,  and  endeavor  to  get 
some  solution  of  the  apparent  mystery.  Meantime,  if  you  are 
in  any  straits,  you  had  better  draw  on  me,  at  the  Stock  Ex- 
change, for  what  you  want.  I  would  remit  you,  but  that, 
knowing  you  are  not  over-regular  in  matters  of  business,  you 
may,  perhaps,  have  made  new  arrangements  for  your  money, 
and,  through  inadvertency,  omitted  to  apprise  me. 

"  Now  that  Italy  has  become  the  scene  of  war,  a  letter  from 
you  now  and  then,  when  you  have  any  recent  political  news, 
would  not  only  be  gratifying,  but,  perhaps,  useful  in  the  way 
of  business.  The  papers  of  to-day  affirm  that  the  Spanish 
Constitution  has  been  proclaimed  at  Florence ;  and,  for  my 
own  part,  I  have  little  doubt  that,  if  the  Austrians  be  defeated 
in  the  first  instance,  (which  God  grant !)  the  whole  of  Italy  will 
be  convulsed  and  revolutionized.  In  this  anxious  suspense,  I 
must  await  the  course  of  events,  and  hope  to  receive  some 
communications  from  you. 

"  You  ask  in  what  periodical  works  I  write.  Principally  in 
Baldwin's  London  Magazine,  under  various  signatures,  but 
generally  H. ;  and  also  in  the  New  Monthly,  edited  by  Camp- 
bell, the  poet.  Poor  Scott !  what  a  melancholy  termination  ! 
and  how  perfectly  unnecessary  !  *  Christie  and  the  two 
seconds  will  surrender  and  take  their  trial  at  the  Old  Bailey 

*  Scott  was  the  editor  of  the  London  Magazine,  and  was  killed,  in  a 
duel  with  a  Mr.  Christie,  arising  out  of  some  strong  remarks  which  he 
(Scott)  had  made  on  the  writers  in  Blackwood's  Magazine.  The  sec- 
onds were  blamed  for  allowing  another  interchange  of  shots ;  but  they 
were  acquitted  on  their  trial.  —  Ed. 


SHELLEY   AND    BYRON    AT    PISA.  183 

Sessions  next  month.   We  are  raising  a  subscription  for  Scott's 
family. 

"  You  never  said  anything  of  Keats,  who  I  see  died  at  Rome 
under  lamentable  circumstances,  and  whom  all  lovers  of  poetry 
may  regret,  as  a  young  genius  destined  to  do  great  things.  I 
have  a  sympathetic  feeling  for  your  ophthalmia,  having  myself 
lately  suffered  from  a  complaint  in  the  eyes,. but  am  now  nearly 
recovered. 

"  Nothing  strikingly  new  in  literature,  or  in  our  domestic 
policy,  although  the  battle  between  the  suffering  agriculturists 
and  the  fund-holders  is  obviously  approximating.  They  (the 
former)  already  hope  to  abolish  the  malt-tax,  on  which  our 
nominal  sinking  fund  mainly  relies.  Another  bad  year,  and 
they  must  reduce  the  interest,  or  replace  the  alarming  defalca- 
tion of  revenue  by  new  loans.  It  is  all  working  together  for 
good  ;  for  it  is  by  this  explosion  only  that  we  can  have  the 
smallest  chance  of  Reform. 

"  If  I  learn  anything  further  about  the  money,  I  shall  write 
you  again  shortly.     Meantime,  I  am  always, 

"  Dear  Shelley, 
u  Yours  most  faithfully, 

"  Horatio  Smith." 

In  his  zeal  for  his  friend's  cause,  Horace  Smith  thus 
addressed  Sir  Timothy  Shelley  on  the  subject  of  the 
money :  — 

"  Fulham,  April  ISth,  1821. 
"  Sir, 

"  Though  I  have  not  the  honor  of  your  acquaintance,  I 
venture  to  hope  that  the  circumstances  which  I  am  about  to 
state  will  plead  my  excuse  for  intruding  myself  upon  your 
attention.  1  feel  pride  in  declaring  myself  the  particular 
friend  of  Mr.  Percy  Bysshe  Shelley,  for  whom  I  have  been  in 
the  habit  of  receiving  his  quarterly  income,  and  remitting  it 
myself  to  Italy,  for  the  purpose  of  saving  brokerage  and 
agency  charges.     Knowing  my  intimacy  with  your  son,  Dr. 


184  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

Hume  *  applied  to  me  last  year,  stating  that  he  was  in  arrear ; 
at  which  I  expressed  my  surprise,  as  I  assured  him  that  Mr. 
Shelley  never  drew  more  than  220/.,  leaving  the  30/.  regularly 
for  his  use.  I  mentioned  his  application  in  more  than  one  let- 
ter to  Italy,  and  on  the  14th  of  November  wrote  to  Dr.  Hume 
the  following  letter  :  — 

["In  this  letter f  I  gave  an  extract  of  P.  B.  S.'s  letter  to 
me,  saying  he  had  scrupulously  and  regularly  left  the  30/.  in 
the  banker's  hands,  and  they  had  orders  to  pay  it  regularly ; 
expressing  my  own  conviction  that  Dr.  H.  would  get  it  on 
application.] 

"  To  this  letter  I  never  received  any  reply ;  from  which  I 
very  naturally  concluded  that  the  money  was  paid,  and  ex- 
pressed this  belief  and  conviction  in  my  next  communication 
to  Mr.  Shelley.  Thus  the  affair  rested  till  I  called,  on  the 
28th  March  last,  with  my  usual  order  on  Messrs.  Brookes  and 
Co.  for  220/. ;  by  whom  I  was  informed  that  the  payment  of 
Mr.  Shelley's  income  was  stopped  —  whether  permanently  or 
temporarily,  they  could  not  tell  me  ;  nor  could  they  afford  me 
any  explanation  whatever,  none  having  been  given  to  them. 
This  inexplicable  occurrence  was  made  known  by  me  to  Mr. 
Shelley  on  the  following  day. 

"  It  was  not  until  after  a  good  deal  of  personal  trouble  and 
inquiry  that  I  learned  the  real  state  of  the  case,  and  the  in- 
stitution of  legal  proceedings ;  and,  having  a  thorough  con- 
viction that  Mr.  Shelley  had  left  the  money  at  the  bankers,  I 
believed  it  to  be  paid.  I  called  on  Messrs.  Wright  and  Co., 
and  found,  as  I  suspected,  that  the  money  had  all  along  been 
lying  in  their  hands  to  the  amount  of  Dr.  Hume's  claim  within 
a  trifle  (which  I  presume  are  postages  or  some  petty  charges, 
with  which  Mr.  Shelley  was  unacquainted),  and  that  they  had 

*  The  custodian  of  Shelley's  children  by  his  first  wife.  —  Ed. 

t  The  part  here  enclosed  in  brackets  was  inserted  in  a  copy  of  the 
letter  to  Sir  Timothy,  afterwards  sent  by  Horace  Smith  to  his  friend. 
A  copy,  in  full,  of  the  letter  to  Dr.  Hume  was  of  course  sent  to  the 
baronet.  —  Ed. 


SHELLEY   AND    BYRON   AT   TISA.  185 

only  been  prevented  paying  it  at  once  by  the  want  of  a  regu- 
lar, formal  check  or  order.  You  will  observe  he  says,  in  his 
letter  to  me  :  —  'I  have  regularly  and  scrupulously  left  301. 
from  my  income  for  Dr.  Hume's  draft ; '  but  it  is  probable  that, 
although  he  told  the  bankers  he  left  it  for  Dr.  Hume,  he 
omitted  to  lodge  a  regular  credit  for  his  drafts  —  an  oversight 
for  which  his  inexperience  of  business  supplies  a  sufficient  ex- 
planation and  excuse.  Why  this  inquiry  was  not  made  at  the 
bankers  before  the  institution  of  law  proceedings ;  why  no 
application  was  made  to  me  to  get  the  irregularity  rectified, 
which  I  would  have  pledged  myself  to  have  done ;  why 
nothing  was  said  to  him ;  why  250Z.  was  finally  impounded 
to  pay  1 201.  —  are  points  of  which  I  will  not  offer  any  so- 
lution. 

"  I  cannot  find  that  Mr.  Shelley  has  received  from  any 
quarter  the  smallest  intimation  of  these  proceedings.  He 
has  been  left  in  a  foreign  country  without  the  means  of 
present  subsistence,  and  must  have  been  exposed  to  the  most 
distressing  suspense  and  anxiety  from  the  sudden  announce- 
ment of  the  cessation  of  his  income  without  a  syllable  of  ex- 
planation. 

"  To  conduct  so  harsh  and  unmerited,  and  evincing  such  a 
total  disregard  to  his  feelings,  you,  sir,  I  am  sure,  would  never 
have  become  a  party,  but  from  some  great  misapprehension  of 
the  real  circumstances  of  the  case.  It  is  to  remove  this  er- 
roneous impression,  and  to  prove  to  you,  as  I  trust  I  have 
done  effectually,  that  Mr.  Shelley  has  been  guilty  of  nothing 
but  a  little  ignorance  of  the  precise  forms  of  bankers'  busi- 
ness, that  I  have  ventured  to  trouble  you  with  this  long  ex- 
planation. My  sincere  respect  and  attachment  to  that  gentle- 
man would  not  allow  me  to  be  silent  when  I  thought  him 
aggrieved ;  and,  in  the  hope  that  this  feeling  will  plead  my 
excuse  for  intruding  upon  your  time,  I  beg  to  subscribe  myself 
respectfully,  &c,  &c, 

"  H.  Smith." 


186  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

FROM   HORACE    SMITH    TO    SHELLEY. 

"  Fulham,  April  17th,  1821. 
"  My  dear  Shelley, 

"  I  wrote  you  on  the  3d  of  this  month,  and  I  have  been 
engaged  in  warlike  operations  for  you  ever  since.  I  have  a 
iong  story  to  tell.  Determined  to  ferret  out  the  mystery  of 
this  Chancery  suit,  I  went  from  one  place  to  another  making 
inquiries  ;  and,  as  Dr.  Hume  made  no  reply  to  my  first  letter, 
I  wrote  him  a  second,  which,  after  an  interval  of  several  days, 
extorted  the  reply  of  which  I  send  you  a  copy.  On  the  same 
day  when  this  came  to  hand,  I  called  on  Mr.  Longdill,  whom 
I  understood  to  be  your  friend,  when  he  at  once  confessed 
that  he  was  a  party  to  the  proceedings  against  you,  in  order, 
as  he  said,  to  get  Dr.  Hume  paid,  whom  he  had  himself  rec- 
ommended as  custodian  to  the  children.*  He  did  not  seem 
to  believe  that  the  30Z.  had  been  left  at  Brookes's,  and  I  found 
had  never  written  to  you,  as  he  asked  where  you  were.  I 
went  to  the  bankers'  —  back  to  him  —  was  told  by  him  that 
the  law  charges  were  now  all  incurred,  and  that  it  was  too 
late  to  stay  proceedings.  From  him  I  came  home,  chewing 
the  cud  of  indignation,  and,  on  my  arrival,  Hume's  letter  was 
put  into  my  hand,  whence  I  found  that  Sir  Timothy  was  also 
made  a  party,  and  observed  the  alacrity  with  which  Mr. 
Whitton  had  recommended  Chancery  applications,  and  the 
impounding  of  250Z.  to  pay  120L  On  a  review  of  the  whole 
affair,  it  did  appear  such  a  cowardly  cabal  against  an  absent 
man  —  it  evinced  such  an  insulting  indifference  to  your  feel- 
ings —  it  appeared  so  cruel  that,  amid  so  many  parties  (some 
calling  themselves  your  friends),  not  one  could  be  found  to 
give  a  hint  to  you  or  me  —  that,  in  a  towering  passion,  I  sat 
down  and  wrote  to  Dr.  Hume,  finding  the  utmost  difficulty  to 

*  it  will  be  recollected  that,  at  the  time  of  Lord  Eldon's  decree 
Mr.  Longdill  was  Shelley's  legal  adviser;  which  renders  his  subse- 
quent conduct  very  extraordinary.  —  Ed. 


SHELLEY   AND    BYRON    AT    PISA.  187 

restrain  my  indignation  within  civil  bounds.  Read  this  letter, 
and  tell  me  whether  I  do  not  deserve  credit  for  subduing  my 
feelings  to  such  temperate  language. 

"  Yesterday,  I  wrote  to  Sir  Timothy,  of  which  also  you  have 
a  copy,  and  in  which  no  want  of  respect  can  be  imputed  to 
me.  This  night,  I  have  received  the  enclosed  from  Mr.  Long- 
dill,  whose  conscience,  I  suppose,  has  directed  some  of  my 
innuendoes  to  his  own  bosom,  and,  with  the  usual  self-betrayal 
of  a  man  who  feels  he  has  done  wrong,  he  has  recourse  to  vul- 
garity and  abuse. 

"  From  Sir  Timothy  I  do  not  expect  any  reply,  and  here, 
therefore,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned,  the  matter  will  probably 
end.  My  bitter  and  uncontrollable  scorn  of  all  paltry  under- 
hand proceedings  may  have  led  me  to  interfere  unnecessarily 
or  intemperately  ;  but,  as  I  thought  it  very  likely  that  your 
conduct  had  been  blazoned  to  Sir  Timothy  in  the  blackest  col- 
ors, I  determined  on  letting  him  know  how  the  matter  really 
stood.  Perhaps  it  might  not  be  amiss  if  you  were  to  write  him 
a  respectful,  explanatory  letter. 

"  You  will  observe  that  Mr.  Westbrooke  is  a  party  to  the 
suit,  and  probably,  as  there  can  be  no  defence,  it  will  be  de- 
cided against  you ;  but  I  suppose  they  will  make  some  arrange- 
ment for  cancelling  the  order  in  the  event  of  the  death  of  one 
or  both  of  the  children.  I  suppose,  also,  you  will  have  the 
pleasure  of  paying  the  law  charges  of  this  application  ;  but,  as 
I  have  cut  myself  off  from  the  honor  of  any  communication 
with  the  gentlemen  who  have  treated  you  with  so  much  respect, 
I  must  receive  my  next  intelligence  from  you,  which  pray  give 
me,  soon  as  you  can. 

"  As  affairs  seem  all  settling  in  Italy,  I  resume  my  intention 
of  taking  you  by  the  hand.  My  wife  has  a  daughter,  and  is 
doing  perfectly  well.  I  expect  we  shall  be  ready  to  start  in 
July  or  August  Will  that  be  too  hot,  and  would  you  prefer- 
ably recommend  October  ?  Let  me  hear  from  you  fully,  and 
believe  me  always,     My  dear  Shelley, 

"  Yours  very  sincerely, 

"  Horatio  Smith." 


188  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

FROM   HORACE    SMITH    TO    SHELLEY. 

"  London,  April  19fA,  1821. 
"Dear  Shelley, 

"  I  wrote  you  on  the  17th  inst.,  with  a  budget  of  letters 
relative  to  this  lawsuit ;  and  annexed  I  hand  you  a  copy  of 
Sir  Timothy's  reply,  received  yesterday.  I  am  most  glad  that 
1  wrote  to  him,  for  it  turns  out  that  my  conjecture  that  he  was 
unacquainted  with  the  affair  is  correct,  and  that  the  law  pro- 
ceedings were  literally  cooked  up  by  the  lawyers.  It  appears 
a  most  scandalous  liberty  in  Mr.  Whitton,  not  only  to  make 
your  father  a  party  without  his  privity,  but  actually  to  stop 
your  money  on  his  own  authority.  I  have  this  day  written  a 
few  lines  to  Sir  Timothy,  stating  that  I  had  seen  a  letter  at 
Wright's  from  Whitton,  certainly  implying  that  he  had  com- 
municated with  Sir  T. ;  and  I  leave  the  lawyer  to  get  out  of 
this  dilemma  as  well  as  he  can.  Of  Whitton  I  know  nothing  ; 
but  I  seem  to  dislike  him  by  instinct.  Having  written  you  so 
many  letters  lately,  I  have  nothing  further  to  say  than  to  re- 
peat the  pleasant  assurance  that  I  shall  this  summer  or  autumn 
take  you  by  the  hand,  when  we  can  talk  over  all  these  matters 
"  I  am,  my  dear  Shelley, 
M  Ever  yours, 

"Horatio  Smith." 

from  sir  timothy  shelley  to  horace  smith. 

"Bath,  llth  April,  1821. 
"  Sir, 

"  Your  letter  of  the  13th  inst.  I  received  this  day.  'Tis 
the  first  intimation  I  have  had  of  the  business  you  allude  to, 
either  in  law  proceedings  or  otherwise,  more  than  last  year  I 
did  hear  the  payment  had  been  countermanded  ;  but,  hearing 
nothing  further,  I  concluded  it  had  been  rectified. 

"  I  shall  lay  your  letter  before  my  solicitor,  to  be  informed 


SHELLEY    AND    BYRON    AT    PISA.  189 

of  any  circumstances  that  may  have  necessarily  arisen  that 
concern  my  name  as  a  party. 

"  I  have  the  honor  to  be,  Sir, 

"  Your  obedient  servant, 

"T.  Shelley." 


FROM  HORACE  SMITH  TO  SHELLEY. 

"  Paris,  August  30th,  1821. 
"My  dear  Shelley, 

"  I  wrote  you  on  the  10th,  and  have  since  had  the  pleas- 
ure of  receiving  yours,  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gisborne,  who  made 
a  very  short  stay  here,  and  left  us  a  few  days  ago  for  England. 

"  He  handed  me  also  your  poem  on  Keats's  death,  which  I 
like,  with  the  exception  of  the  Cenci,  better  than  anything  you 
have  written, -finding  in  it  a  great  deal  of  fancy,  feeling,  and 
beautiful  language,  with  none  of  the  metaphysical  abstraction 
which  is  so  apt  to  puzzle  the  uninitiated  in  your  productions. 
It  reminded  me  of  Lycidas,  more  from  the  similarity  of  the 
subject  than  anything  in  the  mode  of  treatment. 

"  You  must  expect  a  fresh  stab  from  Southey  wheneTer  he 
has  an  opportunity.  Mrs.  G.  also  left  me  a  copy  for  Moore, 
who  is  residing  in  the  neighborhood  of  Paris,  though  I  have 
not  seen  him. 

"  About  a  fortnight  ago,  my  wife  became  worse,  and  the 
weather  setting  in  about  the  same  time  with  an  unusual  in- 
tensity of  heat,  so  completely  overcame  her  that  I  was  obliged 
to  have  medical  advice,  and  the  physician  (an  Englishman 
settled  here)  dissuades  me  from  taking  her  to  a  more  southern 
latitude.  Terrified  at  the  intensity  of  the  heat  here,  where  un- 
fortunately it  has  been  of  a  very  uncommon  fierceness,  she  now 
dreads  encountering  the  sun  of  Italy  ;  and,  in  the  face  of  these 
insuperable  dissuasives,  I  cannot  of  course  proceed.  The  disap- 
pointment and  vexation  of  this  sudden  overthrow  of  all  my 
long  cherished  plans  is  not  less  painful  to  me  than  the  cause  of  it 
is  distressing.     I  have  also  to  regret  the  trouble  I  have  unneces- 


190  SHELLEY   MEMORIALS. 

sarily  given  you,  and  the  disappointment  (for  I  have  vanity- 
enough  to  believe  you  will  think  it  such)  to  which  I  have  ex- 
posed you.  In  the  midst  of  these  more  serious  annoyances,  I 
have  hardly  time  to  attend  to  the  petty  inconveniences  to 
which  we  must  be  subjected  by  wintering  here  without  any  of 
our  clothes,  books,  or  comforts,  all  of  which  have  been  shipped 
to  Leghorn.  I  think  of  taking  a  house  at  Versailles,  but  at 
present  I  am  quite  unsettled  in  everything.  When  I  have  ar- 
ranged my  plans,  I  shall  write  to  you  again  ;  till  when,  and 
always, 

"  I  am,  my  dear  Shelley, 

"  Your  very  sincere  and  disappointed  friend, 
"  Horatio  Smith. 

Towards  the  close  of  December,  Mrs.  Shelley  wrote  a 
letter  to  Mrs.  Gisborne,  in  which  she  says  :  — 

"  Since  writing  my  last  letter,  we  have  heard  of  the  de- 
parture of  Hunt,*  and  now  anxiously  await  his  arrival.  He 
will  be  more  comfortable  than  he  dreams  of  now ;  for  Lord 
Byron  has  furnished  the  pian  terreno  of  his  own  house  for 
him,  so  that  (more  lucky  than  the  rest  of  the  economical  Eng- 
lish, who  come  here)  he  will  find  clean  and  spacious  apart- 
ments, with  every  comfort  about  him,  and  a  climate  —  such  a 
climate  !  We  dine  in  a  room  without  a  fire,  with  all  the  win- 
dows open  ;  a  tramontano  reigns,  which  renders  the  sky  clear, 
and  the  warm  sun  pours  into  our  apartments.  It  is  cold  at 
night,  but  as  yet  not  uncomfortably  so ;  and  it  now  verges 
towards  Christmas-day.  I  am  busy  in  arranging  Hunt's 
rooms,  since  that  task  devolves  upon  me. 

"  Lord  Byron  is  now  living  very  sociably,  giving  dinners 
to  his  male  acquaintance,  and  writing  divinely.      Perhaps  by 


*  Leigh  Hunt  and  his  family  had  indeed  departed,  but  were  driven 
back  by  stress  of  weather;  so  that  their  voyage  was  postponed  for 
some  months.  —  Ed. 


SHELLEY    AND    BYRON    AT    PISA.  191 

this  time  you  have  seen  Cain,  and  will  agree  with  us  in  think- 
ing it  his  finest  production.  Of  some  works  one  says  —  one 
has  thought  of  such  things,  though  one  could  not  have  ex- 
pressed them  so  well.  It  is  not  thus  with  Cain.  One  has, 
perhaps,  stood  on  the  extreme  verge  of  such  ideas,  and  from 
the  midst  of  the  darkness  which  had  surrounded  us  the  voice 
of  the  poet  now  is  heard,  telling  a  wondrous  tale. 

"  Our  friends  in  Greece  are  getting  on  famously.  All  the 
Morea  is  subdued,  and  much  treasure  was  acquired  with  the 
capture  of  Tripoliza.  Some  cruelties  have  ensued ;  but  the 
oppressor  must  in  the  end  buy  tyranny  with  blood ;  such  is 
the  law  of  necessity.  The  young  Greek  Prince  you  saw  at  our 
house  is  made  the  head  of  the  Provisional  Government  in 
Greece.  He  has  sacrificed  his  whole  fortune  to  his  country  ; 
and,  heart  and  soul,  is  bent  upon  her  cause. 

"  You  will  be  glad  to  hear  that  Shelley's  health  is  much 
improved  this  winter.  He  is  not  quite  well,  but  he  is  much 
better.  The  air  of  Pisa  is  so  mild  and  delightful,  and  the 
exercise  on  horseback  agrees  with  him  particularly.  Williams, 
also,  is  quite  recovered.  We  think  that  we  may  probably 
spend  next  summer  at  La  Spezzia  —  at  least,  I  hope  that  we 
shall  be  near  the  sea. 

"  The  clock  strikes  twelve.  I  have  taken  to  sit  up  rather 
late  this  last  month,  and,  when  all  the  world  is  in  bed  or 
asleep,  find  a  little  of  that  solitude  one  cannot  get  in  a  town 
through  the  day.  Yet  daylight  brings  with  it  all  the  delights 
of  a  town  residence,  and  all  the  delights  of  friendly  and  social 
intercourse  —  few  of  the  pains;  for  my  horizon  is  so  con- 
tracted that  it  shuts  most  of  those  out. 

"  Most  sincerely  yours, 

"  Mary  W.  S." 


102  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

THE    BAY    OP    SPEZZIA. 

The  end  now  rapidly  approaches.  We  have  arrived 
at  the  year  which  saw  the  close  of  Shelley's  short  life ; 
but  a  few  minor  incidents  remain  to  be  recorded  before 
we  stand  in  the  presence  of  death. 

The  winter  of  1822  was  spent  at  Pisa.  Shelley,  dur- 
ing part  of  the  time,  was  engaged  on  the  dramatic  frag- 
ment, Charles  the  First  —  a  subject  which  he  had  at  one 
time  proposed  to  Mrs.  Shelley  ;  but,  being  dissatisfied 
with  the  progress  he  was  making,  he  threw  aside  the 
conception,  and  devoted  his  thoughts  to  a  mystical  poem 
in  the  terza  rima,  called  the  Triumph  of  Life  —  also  left 
incomplete,  and  the  last  of  his  long  productions.  He 
likewise,  about  the  same  time,  made  several  translations 
from  Goethe,  Calderon,  Homer,  &c,  with  a  view  to  their 
publication  in  the  Liberal. 

In  the  January  of  this  year,  or  towards  the  end  of  the 
previous  December,  Shelley  became  acquainted  with  Mr. 
Trelawny,  who  called  on  him  at  Pisa,  and  who,  in  his 
recently  published  Recollections  of  the  last  Days  of  Shel- 
ley and  Byron,  has  given  an  interesting  account  of  his 
introduction.     It  was  dusk  when  he  arrived  at  the  poet's 


THE   BAY    OF    SPEZZlA.  193 

residence,  and  through  the  open  door  of  the  room  he 
observed  a  pair  of  glittering  eyes.  Mrs.  Williams,  who 
lived  in  the  same  house,  exclaimed,  "  Come  in,  Shelley ; 
it's  only  our  friend  Tre,  just  arrived."  Thus  encour- 
aged, the  poet  glided  in,  in  some  confusion,  but  holding 
out  both  his  hands  cordially.  He  was  habited  in  a  jacket, 
which  he  seemed  to  have  outgrown,  and  which  added  to 
his  juvenile  appearance.  A  book  was  in  his  hand,  which 
proved  to  be  Calderon's  Magico  Prodigioso  ;  and,  being 
asked  to  read  some  passages,  he  made  an  extempore 
rendering  of  several  parts  with  marvellous  ease  and 
rapidity,  accompanying  his  translation  by  a  masterly 
analysis  of  the  genius  of  the  author,  and  a  lucid  inter- 
pretation of  the  story.  Suddenly  he  disappeared ;  and 
Mrs.  Williams,  in  answer  to  the  astonishment  of  Mr. 
Trelawny,  said,  "  Oh,  he  comes  and  goes  like  a  spirit ; 
no  one  knows  when  or  where."  Shelley,  however,  had 
simply  gone  to  fetch  his  wife.  From  this  time  until  the 
poet's  death,  Mr.  Trelawny  was  on  intimate  terms  with 
him. 

Mrs.  Shelley's  opinion  of  their  new  friend  may  be 
gathered  from  an  entry  in  her  journal,  under  date 
January  19th,  1822:  — 

"  Trelawny  is  extravagant  —  partly  natural,  and  partly, 
perhaps,  put  on ;  but  it  suits  him  well ;  and,  if  his  abrupt, 
but  not  unpolished,  manners  be  assumed,  they  are  never- 
theless in  unison  with  his  Moorish  face  (for  he  looks 
Oriental,  though  not  Asiatic),  his  dark  hair,  his  Hercu- 
lean form.  And  then  there  is  an  air  of  extreme  good- 
nature, which  pervades  his  whole  countenance,  especially 

9 


194  SHELLEY   MEMORIALS. 

when  he  smiles,  —  which  assures  me  thftt  his  heart  is 
good.  He  tells  strange  stories  of  himself — horrific 
ones  —  so  that  they  harrow  one  up ;  while  with  his 
emphatic,  but  unmodulated,  voice,  his  simple,  yet  strong 
language,  he  portrays  the  most  frightful  situations. 
Then,  all  these  adventures  took  place  between  the  ages 
of  thirteen  and  twenty.  I  believe  them  now  I  see  the 
man ;  and,  tired  with  the  every-day  sleepiness  of  human 
intercourse,  I  am  glad  to  meet  with  one  who,  among 
other  valuable  qualities,  has  the  rare  merit  of  interesting 
my  imagination." 

And,  in  a  letter  addressed  to  Mrs.  Gisborne  on  the  9  th 
of  February,  Mrs.  Shelley  says  :  —  "  Trelawny  [is]  a 
kind  of  half-Arab  Englishman,  whose  life  has  been  as 
changeful  as  that  of  Anastasius,  and  who  recounts  the 
adventures  of  his  }routh  as  eloquently  and  well  as  the 
imagined  Greek.  He  is  clever  ;  for  his  moral  qualities, 
I  am  yet  in  the  dark.  He  is  a  strange  web,  which  I  am 
endeavoring  to  unravel.  I  would  fain  learn  if  generosity 
is  united  to  impetuousness,  nobility  of  spirit  to  his  assump- 
tion of  singularity  and  independence.  He  is  six  feet 
high ;  raven  black  hair  which  curls  thickly  and  shortly 
like  a  Moor's  ;  dark  gray,  expressive  eyes ;  overhanging 
brows ;  upturned  lips,  and  a  smile  which  expresses  good- 
nature and  kind-heartedness.  His  voice  is  monotonous, 
yet  emphatic ;  and  his  language,  as  he  relates  the  events 
of  his  life,  energetic  and  simple.  Whether  the  tale  be 
one  of  blood  and  horror,  or  of  irresistible  comedy,  his 
company  is  delightful,  for  he  excites  me  to  think,  and,  if 
any  evil  share  the  Intercourse,  that  time  will  unveil." 


THE    BAY    OF    SPEZZIA.  195 

It  was  not  many  months  before  the  writer  had  a 
terrible  means  of  judging  the  sterling  worth  and  kind- 
ness of  her  new  friend's  character. 

The  fatal  project  of  the  boat  was  suggested  by  Mr. 
Trelawny  very  early  in  the  year;  and,  on  the  15th  of 
January,  as  recorded  in  Williams's  journal,  the  former 
gentleman  brought  with  him  the  model  of  an  American 
schooner,  after  which  design  it  was  proposed  that  a  craft 
thirty  feet  long  should  be  built.  It  appears,  however, 
that  ultimately  a  design  to  which  Williams  had  taken  a 
fancy  was  adopted.  Mr.  Trelawny  at  once  wrote  to 
Captain  Roberts,  a  nautical  friend,  at  Genoa,  to  com- 
mence the  work  directly.  Shelley  and  Williams  were  to 
be  the  joint  proprietors  of  this  boat,  which,  when  com- 
pleted, was  called  the  "  Don  Juan."  On  the  passage  in 
Williams's  diary  recording  the  discussion  of  the  details 
of  the  project,  Mrs.  Shelley  has  written  this  note  :  — 

"  Thus,  on  that  night  —  one  of  gayety  and  thoughtless- 
ness —  Jane's  *  and  my  miserable  destiny  was  decided. 
We  then  said,  laughing,  to  each  other :  4  Our  husbands 
decide  without  asking  our  consent,  or  having  our  con- 
currence ;  for,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  hate  this  boat, 
though  I  say  nothing.'  Said  Jane,  '  So  do  I ;  but  speak- 
ing would  be  useless,  and  only  spoil  their  pleasure.' 
How  well  I  remember  that  night!  How  short-sighted 
we  are !  And  now  that  its  anniversary  is  come  and 
gone,  methinks  I  cannot  be  the  wretch  I  too  truly  am." 

A  mysterious  intimation  of  the  great  calamity  that  was 

*  Mrs.  Williams. 


196  SHELLEY   MEMORIALS. 

fast  approaching  seems  to  have  hung  like  a  cloud  over 
the  spirits  of  Mrs.  Shelley  at  this  time.  She  records  in 
her  diary  that,  on  the  evening  of  February  7th,  she  went 
to  a  ball ;  and  this  gives  rise  to  some  singular  reflections. 
"  During  a  long,  long  evening  in  mixed  society,"  she 
writes,  M  how  often  do  one's  sensations  change ;  and,  swift 
as  the  west  wind  drives  the  shadows  of  clouds  across  the 
sunny  hills  or  the  waving  corn,  so  swift  do  sentiments 
pass,  painting,  yet  not  disfiguring  the  serenity  of  the 
mind.  It  is  then  that  life  seems  to  weigh  itself,  and  hosts 
of  memories  and  imaginations,  thrown  into  one  scale, 
make  the  other  kick  the  beam.  You  remember  what 
you  have  felt,  what  you  have  dreamt ;  yet  you  dwell  on 
the  shadowy  side,  and  lost  hopes  and  death  (such  as  you 
have  seen  it)  seem  to  cover  all  things  with  a  funeral  pall. 
The  time  that  was,  is,  and  will  be,  presses  upon  you,  and, 
standing  the  centre  of  a  moving  circle,  you  '  slide  giddily 
as  the  world  reels/  *  You  look  to  Heaven,  and  would 
demand  of  the  everlasting  stars,  that  the  thoughts  and 
passions  which  are  your  life  may  be  as  ever-living  as 
they.  You  would  demand  of  the  blue  Empyrean  that 
your  mind  might  be  as  clear  as  it,  and  that  the  tears 
which  gather  in  your  eyes  might  be  the  shower  that 
would  drain  from  its  profoundest  depths  the  springs  of 
weakness  and  sorrow.  But  —  a  thousand  swift,  consum- 
ing lights  supply  the  place  of  the  eternal  ones  of  Heaven. 
The  enthusiast  suppresses  her  tears,  crushes  her  opening 
thoughts,  and  —  all  is  changed.     Some  word,  some  look, 

*  These  words  are  from  the  Cenci.  —  Ed. 


THE   BAT    OF    SrEZZIA.  197 

excites  the  lagging  blood  —  laughter  dances  in  the  eyes 
—  and  the  spirits  rise  proportionally  high. 

*  The  Queen  is  all  for  revels;  her  light  heart, 
Unladen  from  the  heaviness  of  state, 
Bestows  itself  upon  delightfulness.' 

"  Sometimes  I  awaken  from  my  visionary  monotony, 
and  my  thoughts  flow,  until,  as  it  is  exquisite  pain  to 
stop  the  flowing  of  the  blood,  so  is  it  painful  to  check 
expression,  and  make  the  overflowing  mind  return  to  its 
usual  channel.  I  feel  a  kind  of  tenderness  to  those  who- 
ever they  may  be  (even  though  strangers),  who  awaken 
this  strain,  and  touch  a  chord  so  full  of  harmony  and 
thrilling  music." 

When  this  was  written,  Shelley  was  away,  in  company 
with  Williams,  on  a  visit  to  Spezzia,  where  they  were 
seeking  for  a  house.  They  were  absent  about  four  days, 
returning  on  the  11th  of  February.  Under  that  date, 
Mrs.  Shelley  writes  in  her  journal :  — 

"  What  a  mart  this  world  is !  Feelings,  sentiments, 
more  invaluable  than  gold  or  precious  stones,  are  the 
coin ;  and  what  is  bought  ?  Contempt,  discontent,  and 
disappointment,  if,  indeed,  the  mind  be  not  loaded  with 
drearier  memories. 

"  And  what  say  the  worldly  to  this  •?  Use  Spartan 
coin  ;  pay  away  iron  and  lead  alone ;  and  store  up  your 
precious  metal.  But,  alas !  from  nothing,  nothing  comes ; 
or,  as  all  things  seem  to  degenerate,  give  lead,  and  you 
will  receive  clay.  The  most  contemptible  of  all  lives  is 
when  you  live  in  the  world,  and  none  of  your  passions  or 
affections  are  called  into  action.     I  am  convinced  I  could 


198  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

not  live  thus;  and  as  Sterne  says  that  in  solitude  he 
would  worship  a  tree,  —  so,  in  the  world,  I  should  attach 
myself  to  those  who  bore  the  semblance  of  those  qualities 
which  I  admire.  But  it  is  not  this  that  I  want.  Let  me 
love  the  trees,  the  skies  and  the  ocean,  and  that  all-en- 
compassing Spirit  of  which  I  may  soon  become  a  part. 
Let  me,  in  my  fellow-creature,  love  that  which  is,  and 
not  fix  my  affection  on  a  fair  form  endued  with  imag- 
inary attributes.  Where  goodness,  kindness,  and  talent 
are,  let  me  love  and  admire  them  at  their  just  rate, 
neither  adding  nor  diminishing ;  and,  above  all,  let  me 
fearlessly  descend  into  the  remotest  caverns  of  my  own 
mind,  carry  the  torch  of  self-knowledge  into  its  dimmest 
recesses  —  but  too  happy  if  I  dislodge  any  evil  spirit, 
or  enshrine  a  new  deity  in  some  hitherto  uninhabited 
nook." 

An  amusing  anecdote  is  related  by  Mrs.  Shelley  in  a 
letter  to  Mrs.  Gisborne,  dated  March  7th.  "  So,"  she 
exclaims,  "  H.  is  shocked  that,  for  good  neighborhood's 
sake,  I  visited  the  piano  di  sotto.  Let  him  reassure  him- 
self;  instead  of  a  weekly,  it  was  only  a  monthly,  visit 
In  fact,  after  going  three  times,  I  stayed  away.  He 
preached  against  Atheism,  and,  they  said,  against  Shel- 
ley. As  he  invited  me  himself  to  come,  this  appeared  to 
me  very  impertinent;  so  I  wrote  to  him,  to  ask  him 
whether  he  intended  any  personal  allusion.  He  denied 
the  charge  most  entirely.  This  affair,  as  you  may  guess, 
among  the  English  at  Pisa  made  a  great  noise.  Gossip 
here  is  of  course  out  of  all  bounds.  Some  people  have 
given  them  something  to  talk  about.     I  have  seen  little 


THE    BAT    OF    SPEZZIA.  199 

of  it  all ;  but  that  which  I  have  seen  makes  rue  long 
most  eagerly  for  some  sea-girt  isle  where,  with  Shelley, 
my  babe,  my  books  and  horses,  we  might  give  the  rest 
to  the  winds.  This  we  shall  not  have.  For  the  pres- 
ent, Shelley  is  entangled  with  Lord  Byron,  who  is  in  a 
terrible  fright  lest  he  should  desert  him.  We  shall  have 
boats,  and  go  somewhere  on  the  sea-coast,  where,  I  dare 
say,  we  shall  spend  our  time  agreeably  enough." 

An  exciting,  and  even  perilous,  event  occurred  to 
Shelley  about  this  time.  Together  with  Lord  Byron, 
Trelawny,  Count  Gamba  the  younger,  a  Captain  Hay, 
and  a  Mr.  Taaffe,  he  was  riding  home  outside  the  gates 
of  Pisa,  on  horseback,  with  the  ladies  following  in  a 
carriage.  Suddenly  "a  mounted  dragoon"  —  to  quote 
the  account  given  by  Williams  in  his  diary  —  "  dashed 
through  their  party,  and  touched  Taaffe's  horse  as  they 
passed  in  an  insolent  and  defying  manner.  Lord  Byron 
put  spurs  to  his  horse,  saying  that  he  should  give  some 
account  of  such  insolence.  Shelley's  horse,  however, 
was  the  fleetest,  and,  coming  up  to  the  dragoon,  he 
crossed  and  stopped  him,  till  the  party  arrived ;  but 
they  had  now  reached  the  gate  where  a  guard  was 
stationed,  and,  finding  himself  so  well  supported,  he 
drew  his  sword,  and,  after  abusing  them  all  as  '  maladetti 
Inglesi,'  began  to  cut  and  slash  to  the  right  and  left, 
(and  what  signified  it  to  him  whether  he  had  the  blood 
of  all  the  English  here  ?)  saying  that  he  arrested  them 
all.  *  Do  that  if  you  can/  said  Lord  Byron,  and  dashed 
through  the  guard  with  young  Count  Gamba,  and 
reached  home  to  bring  arms  for  what  he  expected  would 


200  SHELLEY   MEMORIALS. 

turn  out  a  serious  scuffle.  The  dragoon,  finding  the 
rest  of  the  party  intended  to  force  their  way,  made  a 
desperate  cut  at  Shelley,  who  took  off  his  cap,  and, 
warding  the  blow  from  the  sharp  part  of  the  sabre,  the 
hilt  struck  his  head  and  knocked  him  off  his  horse. 
The  fellow  was  repeating  his  cut  at  Shelley  while  down, 
when  Captain  Hay  parried  it  with  a  cane  he  had  in  his 
hand ;  but  the  sword  cut  it  in  two,  and  struck  Captain 
Hay's  face  across  the  nose.  A  violent  scene  now  took 
place,  and  the  dragoon  tried  to  get  into  the  town  and 
escape,  when  Lord  B.  arrived,  and,  half  drawing  a 
sword-stick  to  show  that  he  was  armed,  the  fellow  put 
up  his  sword,  and  begged  Lord  Byron  to  do  the  same. 
It  was  now  dark,  and,  after  walking  a  few  paces  with 
Lord  Byron,  he  put  his  horse  into  a  gallop,  and  endeav- 
ored to  get  off;  but,  on  passing  Lord  Byron's  house, 
a  servant  had  armed  himself  with  a  pitchfork,  and 
speared  him  as  he  passed.  He  fell  from  his  horse,  and 
was  carried  to  the  hospital. 

"  Trelawny  had  finished  his  story  *  when  Lord  Byron 
came  in  —  the  Countess  fainting  on  his  arm,  Shelley 
sick  from  the  blow,  Lord  Byron  and  the  young  Count 
foaming  with  rage,  Mrs.  Shelley  looking  philosophically 
upon  this  interesting  scene,  and  Jane  and  I  wondering 
what  the  devil  was  to  come  next.  Taaffe,  after  having 
given  his  deposition  at  the  police-office,  returned  to  us 
with  a  long  face,  saying  that  the  dragoon  could  not  live 
out  the   night.     All  now  again   sallied  forth  to  be  the 

*  The  foregoing  facts  were  related  to  Williams  by  Trelawny,  who 
was  the  first  to  arrive  at  Shelley's  house.  —  Ed. 


THE    BAY    OF    SPEZZIA.  201 

first  to  accuse,  and,  according  to  Italian  policy,  not  wait 
to  be  accused. 

"  9  o'clock.  —  The  report  already  in  circulation  about 
Pisa  is  l  that  a  party  of  peasants,  having  risen  in  insur- 
rection, made  an  attack  upon  the  guard,  headed  by  some 
Englishmen  ;  and  that  the  guard  maintained  their  ground 
manfully  against  an  awful  number  of  armed  insurgents. 
One  Englishman,  whose  name  was  Trelawny,  left  dead 
at  the  gate,  and  Lord  Byron  mortally  wounded/  who  is 
now  telling  me  the  tale,  and  Trelawny  drinking  brandy 
and  water  by  his  side. 

"10  o'clock.  —  How  the  attack  ought  to  have  been 
conducted  is  now  agitating ;  all  appear  to  me  to  be 
wrong. 

"11  o'clock.  —  Disperse  to  our  separate  homes. 

"  March  25th.  —  At  seven  this  morning,  an  officer 
from  the  police  called  here,  demanding  my  name,  coun- 
try, profession,  and  requesting  to  have  an  account  of  my 
actions  between  the  hours  of  six  and  eight  yesterday 
evening.  My  servants  told  him  I  was  asleep,  but  that 
they  could  inform  him  that  I  was  engaged  in  a  very 
bloody  scene*  between  those  hours.  'Then  he  must 
come  to  the  police-office/  '  Ask  him/  said  I,  '  if  I  am  to 
bring  the  scene  with  me,  or  the  whole  play  as  far  as  I 
have  written.' 

"12  o'clock.  —  Shelley  comes.  The  wounded  dragoon 
much  worse.  Hear  that  the  soldiers  are  confined  to 
their  barracks,  but  they  swear  to  be  revenged  on  some 

*  Williams  here  jocosely  alludes  to  a  play  which  he  was  writing  at 
the  time.  —  Ed. 

9* 


202  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

of  us.  A  report  is  abroad  that  Taaffe  is  the  assassin, 
and  is  now  confined  in  Lord  B.'s  house,  guarded  by 
bull-dogs,  &c.,  to  avoid  the  police.  This  he  himself 
overheard  while  walking  down  the  Lung  Arno.  Shel- 
ley and  Trelawny  think  it  necessary  to  go  around.  A 
skaite-strap  is  therefore  substituted  for  a  pistol-belt,  and 
my  pistols  so  slung  to  Trelawny's  waist. 

"  2  o'clock.  —  Sallied  forth.  Very  much  stared  and 
pointed  at.  Called  on  Lord  B.  Heard  that  ex- 
treme unction  had  been  administered  to  the  dragoon, 
whose  wound  is  considered  mortal.  A  deposition  is 
drawn  up,  and  sent,  with  all  the  signatures  concerned,  to 
the  police.     The  Grand  Duke  is  expected  to-night." 

Notwithstanding  the  severity  of  his  wound,  the  dragoon 
recovered,  and  there  is  no  account  of  the  servant  being 
banished,  as  some  writers  have  stated.  But  Lord  Byron 
shortly  afterwards  left  Pisa,  which  he  probably  found  it 
necessary  to  do,  in  consequence  of  the  fray. 

Shelley  exhibited  great  activity  in  this  affair;  and 
on  another  occasion,  when  a  man  at  Lucca  had  been 
condemned  to  be  burnt  alive  for  sacrilege,  he  proposed 
to  Lord  Byron  and  Captain  Medwin  that  they  should 
at  once  arm,  mount,  and,  setting  off  for  the  spot,  en- 
deavor to  rescue  the  man  when  brought  out  for  execu- 
tion, and  to  carry  him  beyond  the  frontiers.  Pending 
this  last  resource,  however,  they  got  up,  together  with 
other  English  residents,  a  petition  to  the  Grand  Duke ; 
and  the  sentence  on  the  prisoner  was  commuted  to  hard 
labor  at  the  galleys. 

In  writing  to  Mr.  Gisborne  on  the  10th  of  April,  Shel- 


THE    BAY    OF    SPEZZIA.  203 

ley  makes  some  allusion  to  his  study  of  Goethe's  Faust. 
He  observes :  —  "I  have  been  reading  over  and  over 
again  Faust,  and  always  with  sensations  which  no  other 
composition  excites.  It  deepens  the  gloom,  and  aug- 
ments the  rapidity,  of  ideas,  and  would  therefore  seem  to 
me  an  unfit  study  for  any  person  who  is  a  prey  to  the 
reproaches  of  memory  and  the  delusions  of  an  imagina- 
tion not  to  be  restrained.  And  yet  the  pleasure  of  sym- 
pathizing with  emotions  known  only  to  few,  although 
they  derive  their  sole  charm  from  despair  and  the  scom 
of  the  narrow  good  we  can  attain  in  our  present  state, 
seems  more  than  to  ease  the  pain  which  belongs  to  them. 
Perhaps  all  discontent  with  the  less  (to  use  a  Platonic 
sophism)  supposes  the  sense  of  a  just  claim  to  the  greater, 
and  that  we  admirers  of  Faust  are  on  the  right  road  to 
Paradise." 

The  Shelleys  and  Williamses  left  Pisa  on  the  26th  of 
April  for  their  new  house,  the  Villa  Magni,  situated  in  a 
wild  spot  in  the  Bay  of  Spezzia,  on  the  very  border  of 
the  sea,  and  under  the  shadow  of  a  steep  hill  which  rose 
behind  it.  The  proprietor  of  the  estate  was  insane,  and 
had  at  one  time  rooted  up  the  olives  on  the  hill  side, 
and  planted  forest  trees  in  their  places.  This,  as  Mrs. 
Shelley  records  in  her  notes  to  the  poems,  gave  the  plan- 
tation an  unusually  English  appearance.  Dark,  heavy- 
foliaged  walnut  and  ilex  trees,  however,  overhung  the 
white  stone  house  behind ;  while  in  front  stretched  the 
tideless  bay,  shut  in  by  strange  visions  of  jagged  cliffs 
and  multiform  rocks,  with  the  near  castle  of  Lerici  to 
the  east,  and  Porto  Venere  far  off  to  the  west.     The 


204  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

situation  was  so  solitary  that  there  was  only  one  foot- 
path over  the  beach,  which  trailed  its  uncertain  course 
along  \ery  rough  ground  towards  Lerici.  In  the  other 
direction,  there  was  no  path  at  all. 

The  weather  in  this  rocky  nook  was  often  character- 
ized by  a  savage  grandeur.  The  sirocco  would  come 
raging  along,  bringing  a  wide  dimness  with  it.  Squalls 
were  of  frequent  occurrence,  churning  up  the  foam  from 
the.  blue  waters  of  the  bay ;  the  wind  appeared  seldom 
to  lull  in  that  exposed  situation  ;  and  the  sea  roared  so 
incessantly,  that  Mrs.  Shelley  says  it  almost  seemed  as 
if  they  were  on  shipboard.  But  the  sunshine  often  broke 
out  over  the  precipitous  shores,  the  dark  foliage,  and  the 
wavering  ocean,  kindling  all  objects  with  the  lustre  and 
glory  of  the  Italian  atmosphere ;  and  the  sea  would  be- 
come quiet  for  a  time. 

Wild  as  were  the  elements  and  the  spot,  the  natives 
were  wilder  still.  Their  manners  were  almost  savage, 
with  a  mixture  of  the  fierce  revelry  of  Bacchanals. 
They  frequently  passed  the  night  on  the  beach,  singing 
rough,  half  frantic  songs,  and  dancing  fantastically  among 
the  waves  that  broke  and  tumbled  on  the  shore.  All 
the  circumstances  were  of  the  most  picturesque  kind  ; 
but  some  of  the  pains  of  isolation  must  also  have  been 
felt  by  the  English  strangers.  "  We  could  get,"  writes 
Mrs.  Shelley,  "  no  provisions  nearer  than  Sarzana,  at  a 
distance  of  three  miles  and  a  half  off,  with  the  torrent 
of  the  Magra  between ;  and  even  there  the  supply  was 
very  deficient.  Had  we  been  wrecked  on  an  island  of 
the   South   Seas,  we  could  scarcely  have  felt  ourselves 


THE    BAY    OF    SPEZZIA.  205 

further  from  civilization  and  comfort ;  but  where  the  sun 
shines  the  latter  becomes  an  unnecessary  luxury,  and 
we  had  enough  society  among  ourselves.  Yet  I  confess 
housekeeping  became  rather  a  toilsome  task,  especially 
as  I  was  suffering  in  my  health,  and  could  not  exert 
myself  actively." 

Mr.  Trelawny  says  that  the  villa  looked  more  like  a 
boat-house  or  a  bathing-house  than  a  place  to  live  in. 
The  terrace,  or  ground-floor,  was  unpaved,  and  had  been 
used  for  the  storing  of  boat  gear,  &c.  ;  and  the  single 
story  over  it  was  divided  into  a  saloon  and  four  small 
rooms,  with  one  chimney  for  cooking. 

The  fatal  boat  arrived  on  the  12  th  of  May.  She  was 
brought  round  from  Genoa  by  some  English  seamen, 
who,  according  to  the  entry  in  Williams's  Journal,  spoke 
highly  of  her  performances.  The  writer  adds :  —  "  She 
does  indeed  excite  my  surprise  and  admiration.  Shelley 
and  I  walked  to  Lerici,  and  made  a  stretch  off  the  land 
to  try  her ;  and  I  find  she  fetches  whatever  she  looks  at. 
In  short,  we  have  now  a  perfect  plaything  for  the  sum- 
mer." This  last  sentence  now  sounds  like  a  ghastly 
dalliance  with  death.  Mr.  Trelawny  did  not  think  so 
highly  of  the  boat  as  Williams ;  and  Captain  Roberts, 
the  builder,  had  always  protested  against  the  model,  but 
to  no  effect,  for  the  self-love  of  Williams  blinded  him  to 
the  faults  of  his  design.  The  sailors  who  navigated  her 
from  Genoa  to  Spezzia  reported  to  Mr.  Trelawny,  ac- 
cording to  that  gentleman's  account,  "  that  they  had  been 
out  in  a  rough  night,  that  she  was  a  ticklish  boat  to 
manage,  but  had  sailed  and  worked  well."     They  cau- 


206  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

tioned  Shelley  and  Williams  on  the  necessity  for  careful 
management,  but  seemed  to  think  that,  with  two  good 
seamen,  all  would  be  right.  Shelley,  however,  only  re- 
tained an  English  lad,  about  eighteen  years  of  age. 

Shelley's  delight  was  now  perfect.  He  was  surrounded 
by  friends  whom  he  esteemed;  he  was  expecting  the 
arrival  of  another  friend,  for  whom  he  entertained  an 
affectionate  regard ;  and  he  was  enabled  to  spend  a  large 
part  of  his  time  in  his  favorite  element.  The  weather 
became  fine,  and  the  whole  party  often  passed  their 
evenings  on  the  water.  Shelley  and  Williams  sailed 
frequently  to  Massa ;  or,  when  the  weather  was  unfavor- 
able, amused  themselves  by  altering  the  rigging,  or  by 
building  a  light  boat  of  canvas  and  reeds,  in  which  they 
might  be  enabled  to  float  in  waters  too  shallow  for  the 
"  Don  Juan."  Thus  aided,  they  explored  a  good  deal 
of  the  coast  of  Italy.  Shelley  always  had  writing  ma- 
terials on  board  the  larger  vessel ;  and  much  of  the 
Triumph  of  Life  was  composed  as  the  poet  glided  down 
the  purple  seas  of  southern  Europe,  within  sight  of  noble 
objects  of  natural  scenery,  made  trebly  glorious  by  the 
crowding  memories  of  a  splendid  history  and  the  golden 
halo  of  poetical  associations.  Sometimes,  at  night,  when 
the  sea  was  calm  and  the  moon  free  from  clouds,  Shelley 
would  go  alone  in  his  little  shallop  to  some  of  the  caves 
that  opened  from  the  rocky  precipices  on  to  the  bay,  and 
would  sit  weaving  his  wild  verses  to  the  measured  beat- 
ing of  the  waves  as  they  crept  up  towards  the  shore. 
The  stanza  in  which  he  was  writing  (the  terza  rima)  has 
a  strange  affinity,  in  its  endless  and  interlinked  progres- 


THE    BAY    OF    SPEZZIA.  207 

sion,  with  the  trooping  of  the  sea  waves  towards  the 
land  ;  and  a  fanciful  ear  may  please  itself  by  hearing  in 
the  lines  of  the  Triumph  of  Life,  as  in  an  ocean  shell,  the 
distant  murmuring  of  the  Bay  of  Spezzia. 

The  wildness  of  the  objects  by  which  he  was  constantly 
surrounded  —  the  solemnity  of  the  solitude  in  which  he 
had  voluntarily  placed  himself,  broken  occasionally  by 
the  uproar  of  the  half  civilized  men  and  women  from  the 
adjacent  districts  —  the  abrupt  transitions  of  his  life  from 
sea  to  land,  and  from  land  to  sea  —  the  frequent  recur- 
rence of  appalling  storms,  and  the  lofty,  but  weird,  ab- 
stractions of  the  poem  he  was  composing,  —  contributed 
to  plunge  the  mind  of  Shelley  into  a  state  of  morbid 
excitement,  the  result  of  which  was  a  tendency  to  see 
visions.  One  night,  loud  cries,  were  heard  issuing  from 
the  saloon.  The  Williamses  rushed  out  of  their  room  in 
alarm ;  Mrs.  Shelley  also  endeavored  to  reach  the  spot, 
but  fainted  at  the  door.  Entering  the  saloon,  the  Wil- 
liamses found  SheDey  staring  horribly  into  the  air,  and 
evidently  in  a  trance.  They  waked  him,  and  he  related 
that  a  figure  wrapped  in  a  mantle  came  to  his  bedside, 
and  beckoned  him.  He  must  then  have  risen  in  his 
sleep,  for  he  followed  the  imaginary  figure  into  the 
saloon,  when  it  lifted  the  hood  of  its  mantle,  ejaculated, 
"  Siete  sodisfatto  t"*  and  vanished.  The  dream  is  said 
to  have  been  suggested  by  an  incident  occurring  in  a 
drama  attributed  to  Calderon. 

Another  vision  appeared  to  Shelley  on  the  evening  of 

"*  Are  you  satisfied?  " 


208  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

May  6th,  when  he  and  Williams  were  walking  together 
on  the  terrace.  The  story  is  thus  recorded  by  the  latter 
in  his  diary :  — 

"  Fine.  Some  heavy  drops  of  rain  fell  without  a 
cloud  being  visible.  After  tea,  while  walking  with  S.  on 
the  terrace,  and  observing  the  effect  of  moonshine  on  the 
waters,  he  complained  of  being  unusually  nervous,  and, 
stopping  short,  he  grasped  me  violently  by  the  arm,  and 
stared  steadfastly  on  the  white  surf  that  broke  upon  the 
beach  under  our  feet.  Observing  him  sensibly  affected, 
I  demanded  of  him  if  he  was  in  pain ;  but  he  only  an- 
swered by  saying,  *  There  it  is  again  !  there ! '  He  recov- 
ered after  some  time,  and  declared  that  he  saw,  as  plainly 
as  he  then  saw  me,  a  naked  child  [Allegra,  who  had 
recently  died]  rise  from  the  sea  and  clasp  its  hands  as 
if  in  joy,  smiling  at  him.  This  was  a  trance  that  it 
required  some  reasoning  and  philosophy  entirely  to 
wake  him  from,  so  forcibly  had  the  visions  operated  on 
his  mind.  Our  conversation,  which  had  been  at  first 
rather  melancholy,  led  to  this,  and  my  confirming  his 
sensations  by  confessing  that  I  had  felt  the  same, 
gave  greater  activity  to  his  ever-wandering  and  lively 
imagination." 

Thus  passed  the  first  half  of  the  year  1822.  It  was 
one  of  the  happiest  periods  of  Shelley's  life ;  but  it  did 
not  produce  much  literary  fruit.  One  of  the  poet's 
most  perfect  small  productions,  however,  must  be  re- 
ferred to  this  date  :  —  the  address  To  a  Lady  with  a 
Guitar.  In  that  exquisite  trifle,  Shelley  pictures  himself 
as  Ariel ;  and,  addressing  the  lady,  he  says :  — 


THE    BAY    OF    SPEZZIA.  209 

"  Now,  alas !  the  poor  sprite  is 
Imprison'd,  for  some  fault  of  his, 
In  a  hody  like  a  grave : 
From  you  he  only  dares  to  crave, 
For  his  service  and  his  sorrow, 
A  smile  to-day,  a  song  to-morrow." 

He  little  knew  how  soon  the  spirit  was  to  be  emancipated 
from  its  "  grave  "  by  the  liberator,  Death ! 

The  very  last  verses  written  by  Shelley  took  the  form 
of  a  little  poem  welcoming  Leigh  Hunt  to  Italy.  This 
has,  unfortunately,  been  lost. 


210  SHELLEY   MEMORIALS. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

shelley's  death  and  obsequies. 

Leigh  Hunt  arrived  at  Genoa  oh  the  14th  of  June, 
and  was  heartily  welcomed  by  Shelley,  in  a  letter  which 
he  wrote  to  him.  But  so  desirous  was  the  latter  of  see- 
ing his  friend  personally,  that  he  determined  to  go  in  his 
boat  with  Williams  to  Leghorn,  where  Hunt  had  speedily 
proceeded,  to  arrange  with  Lord  Byron  the  final  prelim- 
inaries of  the  Liberal.  Shelley  at  this  time  was  in 
high  spirits ;  Mrs.  Shelley,  on  the  contrary,  was  exceed- 
ingly depressed  (owing,  no  doubt,  to  ill-health),  and  was 
haunted  by  a  profound  presentiment  of  coming  evil,  which 
had  saddened  her  during  the  whole  time  she  had  lived  in 
the  Bay  of  Spezzia.  The  weather  was  now  intensely 
hot,  though  the  breeze  which  sprang  up  from  the  sea  at 
noon  cooled  the  air  for  a  while,  and  set  the  waters  spark- 
ling. A  great  drought  had  prevailed  for  some  time ; 
prayers  for  rain  were  put  up  in  the  churches,  relics  were 
paraded  through  the  towns ;  and  the  unusual  character  of 
the  weather  seemed  to  betoken  that  any  change  would 
be  ushered  in  by  a  violent  storm.  Shelley,  however, 
was  not  the  man  to  be  deterred  by  such  portents  from 
his  contemplated  journey ;  nor  was  his  friend  and  com- 


shelley's  death  and  obsequies.  211 

panion,  Williams.  They  accordingly  disregarded  the 
warning  which  Mr.  Trelawny  had  given  them  some 
months  before,  with  respect  to  the  difference  between  the 
waters  of  the  land-locked  bay  and  those  of  the  open  sea 
beyond. 

On  the  1st  of  July,  they  left  the  Villa  Magni,  never 
to  return.  Mrs.  Shelley  was  to  have  accompanied  them, 
but  her  ill-health  prevented  her.  They  reached  Leg- 
horn in  safety,  and  Shelley  proceeded  with  Leigh  Hunt 
to  Pisa,  where  the  two  friends  were  accommodated  with 
a  floor  in  Lord  Byron's  palace,  the  furnishing  of  which, 
however,  was  done  by  Shelley.  Byron  had  by  this  time 
been  persuaded  by  Moore  and  some  of  his  other  friends 
in  London  that  the  projected  magazine,  about  which  he 
had  been  very  anxious  at  first,  would  be  injurious  to  his 
fame  and  interests  ;  and  Shelley  now  found  him  so 
desirous  of  making  any  possible  retreat  from  his  engage- 
ments, that,  had  he  not  feared  he  might  damage  his 
friend's  interests,  he  would  have  quarrelled  outright  with 
the  noble  poet.*  He  was  very  much  out  of  spirits  when 
he  left  him ;  and  that  was  the  last  interview  they  ever 
had. 

Shelley  appeared  to  Leigh  Hunt  to  be  far  less  hope- 
ful than  in  former  days,  though  otherwise  unchanged. 
The  two  spent  a  delightful  afternoon  together  during  the 
brief  stay  of  Shelley  at  Pisa,  visiting  the  objects  of  note, 
and  more  especially  the  cathedral.  Here  the  noble 
music  of  the  organ  deeply  affected  Shelley,  who  warmly 

*  See  Trelawny' s  Recollections  of  the  Last  Days  of  Shelley  and 
Byron,  p.  109. 


212  SHELLEY   MEMORIALS. 

assented  to  a  remark  of  Leigh  Hunt,  that  a  divine  re- 
ligion might  be  found  out,  if  charity  were  really  made 
the  principle  of  it,  instead  of  faith. 

He  left  for  Leghorn  on  the  night  of  the  same  day. 
His  departure  from  that  place  seems  to  have  been  has- 
tened by  a  gloomy  letter  which  he  recei1  !  from  Mrs. 
Shelley,  who  was  probably  still  trembling  under  that 
"  shadow  of  coming  misery  "  which  she  describes  as  mov- 
ing her  to  agony,  and  as  making  her  scarcely  able  to  let 
her  husband  go  from  her  side  on  the  expedition  which 
ultimately  caused  his  death.  For  himself,  he  disregarded 
these  ghostly  presentiments,  and  had  recently  remarked 
that  the  only  warning  he  had  found  infallible  was  that, 
whenever  he  felt  peculiarly  joyous,  he  was  certain  that 
some  disaster  was  about  to  ensue. 

On  Monday,  July  8th,  Shelley  and  Williams  set  sail 
in  the  "  Don  Juan  "  for  Serici.  Trelawny  was  to  have 
gone  with  them  in  Byron's  vessel,  the  "  Bolivar,"  but 
was  detained  for  want  of  some  necessary  legal  permit. 
They  left  about  three  p.  m.,  when  the  Genoese  mate  of 
the  "  Bolivar "  observed  to  Mr.  Trelawny  that  they 
would  soon  have  too  much  breeze.  Black,  ragged  clouds 
were  by  this  time  coming  up  from  the  southwest ;  and 
the  mate,  pointing  to  what  he  called  "  the  smoke  on  the 
water,"  observed  that  "  the  devil  was  brewing  mischief." 
The  waves  were  speedily  covered  with  a  sea-fog,  in 
which  Shelley's  boat  was  hidden  from  the  view  of  Mr. 
Trelawny.  It  was  intensely  hot ;  the  atmosphere  was 
heavy  and  moveless  to  an  oppressive  degree,  and  a  pro- 
found silence  spread  far  over  the  ocean.     By  half-past 


shellet's  death  and  obsequies.  213 

six  o'clock  it  was  almost  dark ;  the  sea  looked  solid  and 
lead-colored ;  an  oily  scum  was  on  the  surface  ;  the  wind 
wras  beginning  to  wake,  in  short,  panting  gusts  ;  and  big 
drops  of  rain  struck  the  water,  rebounding  as  they  fell. 
"  There  was  a  commotion  in  the  air,"  says  Mr.  Trelawny, 
who  records  these  particulars,  "  made  up  of  many  threat- 
ening sounds,  coming  upon  us  from  the  sea."  The  ves- 
sels in  the  harbor  were  all  in  hurried  movement,  and  the 
tempest  soon  came  crashing  and  glaring,  in  the  fury  of 
thunder,  wind,  rain,  and  lightning,  over  the  port  and  the 
open  waters.  The  storm  only  lasted  about  twenty  min- 
utes, and  during  its  progress  Captain  Roberts  watched 
Shelley's  vessel  with  his  glass  from  the  top  of  the  Leg- 
horn lighthouse.  The  yacht  had  made  Via  Reggio  when 
the  stofm  began.  "  When  the  cloud  passed  onward," 
writes  Mrs.  Shelley,  "  Roberts  looked  again,  and  saw 
every  other  vessel  sailing  on  the  ocean,  except  the  little 
schooner,  which  had  vanished."  Mr.  Trelawny  thought 
for  some  time  that  his  friends  would  return  to  port ;  but 
he  waited  for  them  in  vain. 

The  night  was  somewhat  tempestuous.  At  daybreak 
Mr.  Trelawny  inquired  of  the  crews  of  the  various 
boats  which  had  returned  to  harbor  if  they  had  seen 
anything  of  the  missing  vessel.  They  said  they  had 
not ;  though  the  Genoese  mate  of  the  "  Bolivar  "  pointed 
out,  on  board  a  fishing-boat,  an  English-made  oar,  which 
he  thought  he  recognized  as  belonging  to  the  "  Don 
Juan."  The  crew  protested  it  was  not  so  ;  but  it  seems 
that  in  Italy  the  fact  of  rendering  assistance  to  a  drown- 
ing stranger  entails  a  long  and  rigorous  quarantine  at  the 


214  SHELLEY   MEMORIALS. 

next  port,  if  the  circumstance  should  be  known  there. 
On  the  morning  of  the  third  day,  Mr.  Trelawny  rode  over 
to  Pisa,  and  told  his  fears  to  Lord  Byron  and  Leigh 
Hunt.  The  latter  was  literally  tongue-tied  with  horror  ; 
and  the  former  was  also  greatly  alarmed.  Mr.  Trelawny 
then  despatched  the  "  Bolivar  "  to  cruise  along  the  coast, 
sent  a  courier  as  far  as  Nice,  and  made  the  most  minute 
investigations  himself. 

In  the  meanwhile,  Mrs.  Shelley  and  Mrs.  Williams 
remained  in  miserable  suspense  in  their  wild  home  on 
the  shores  of  the  Bay  of  Spezzia.  "  The  sea,  by  its 
restless  moaning,"  writes  the  former,*  "  seemed  to  desire 
to  inform  us  of  what  we  would  not  learn."  "  If  ever 
Fate  whispered  of  coming  disaster,"  she  remarks  in  her 
notes  to  the  poems  of  1822,  "  such  inaudible,  but  not 
unfelt,  prognostics  hovered  around  us.  The  beauty  of 
the  place  seemed  unearthly  in  its  excess ;  the  distance 
we  were  at  from  all  signs  of  civilization  —  the  sea  at 
our  feet,  its  murmurs  or  its  roaring  forever  in  our 
ears  —  all  these  things  led  the  mind  to  brood  over 
strange  thoughts,  and,  lifting  it  from  every-day  life, 
caused  it  to  be  familiar  with  the  unreal.  A  sort  of  spell 
surrounded  us;  and  each  day,  as  the  voyagers  did 
not  return,  we  grew  restless  and  disquieted  ;  and  yet, 
strange  to  say,  we  were  not  fearful  of  the  most  apparent 
danger." 

At  length,  however,  came  the  dreadful  inference  that 
the  voyagers  had  perished  in  the  storm.  It  was  nothing 
more  than  an  inference  at  first,  though  a  strong  one. 
*  Preface  to  the  Posthumous  Poems. 


shelley's  death  and  obsequies.  215 

Mr.  Trelawny  was  informed  at  Via  Reggio  that  a  punt, 
a  water-keg,  and  some  bottles,  had  been  picked  up  on 
the  beach.  He  recognized  them  as  having  belonged  to 
Shelley's  boat ;  but  for  some  time  the  two  miserable 
women  at  the  Villa  Magni  clung  to  the  desperate  hope 
that  the  "  Don  Juan "  might  have  been  driven  towards 
Elba  or  Corsica,  and  that  the  three  lives  on  board  might 
thus  have  been  saved.  Many  days  more  passed  in  hor- 
rible uncertainty ;  and,  on  one  of  these,  Mrs.  Shelley, 
animated  by  the  strength  of  her  terrors,  proceeded  to 
Pisa,  (though  she  had  not  yet  recovered  from  her  ill- 
ness,) and  rushing  into  Lord  Byron's  room  with  a  face 
of  marble,  passionately  demanded  where  her  husband 
was.  Of  course  his  Lordship  was  unable  to  give  her 
any  information,  and  she  refused  to  be  calmed  or  com- 
forted. Byron  afterwards  informed  Lady  Blessington 
that  he  never  saw  anything  in  'dramatic  tragedy  to 
equal  the  terror  of  Mrs.  Shelley's  appearance  on  that 
day. 

The  worst  ultimately  revealed  itself  with  a  certainty 
which  left  no  further  room  for  even  the  faintest  hope,. 
Two  bodies  were  found  on  the  shore :  one  near  Via 
Reggio;  the  other  close  to  the  tower  of  Migliarino,  at 
the  Bocca  Lericcio.  They  lay  about  four  miles  apart. 
Mr.  Trelawny  went  to  see  both,  and  recognized  the 
first  as  the  corpse  of  Shelley,  and  the  second  as  that  of 
Williams.  Williams  was  nearly  undressed,  having  evi- 
dently made  an  attempt  to  swim.  He  had  on  one  of  his 
boots,  which  Mr.  Trelawny  recognized  by  comparing  it 
with  another  belonging  to  the  same  owner.     Shelley  had 


216  SHELLEY   MEMORIALS. 

probably  gone  down  at  once,  for  he  was  unable  to  swim, 
and  had  always  declared  (according  to  Mr.  Trelawny) 
that,  in  case  of  wreck,  he  would  vanish  instantly,  and 
not  imperil  others  in  the  endeavor  to  save  him.  His 
right  hand  was  clasped  in  his  breast,  and  he  appears  to 
have  been  reading  Keats's  last  volume  of  poems  at  the 
time  of  the  catastrophe ;  as  the  book,  doubled  back,  was 
found  thrust  away,  seemingly  in  haste,  into  a  side 
pocket.  In  another  pocket  was  a  volume  of  Sophocles. 
The  copy  of  Keats  was  lent  by  Leigh  Hunt,  who  told 
Shelley  to  keep  it  till  he  could  give  it  to  him  again 
with  his  own  hands.  As  the  lender  would  receive  it 
from  no  one  else,  it  was  burnt  with  the  body. 

When  the  two  corpses  were  discovered,  fourteen 
days  had  elapsed  since  the  loss  of  the  yacht.  A  third 
week  passed  before  the  body  of  the  young  sailor, 
Charles  Vivian,  was  found  on  the  shore,  four  miles  from 
the  other  two.  It  was  a  mere  skeleton,  and  its  identity 
could  otfly  be  guessed  at  from  the  locality  in  which  the 
waves  had  thrown  it. 

Subsequently,  the  boat  was  discovered  off  Via  Reggio. 
She  had  gone  down  in  fifteen  fathoms  water,  but  does  not 
appear  to  have  capsized ;  for  various  things  were  found 
in  her  exactly  as  they  had  been  placed  on  starting. 
Captain  Roberts  took  possession  of  the  vessel,  but  failed 
in  endeavoring  to  make  her  seaworthy.  "  Her  shat- 
tered planks  now  lie  rotting,"  says  Mrs.  Shelley,  writing 
in  1839,  "  on  the  shore  of  one  of  the  Ionian  islands  on 
which  she  was  wrecked." 

On  a  close  examination,  Captain  Roberts  found  many 


shelley's  death  and  obsequies.  217 

of  the  timbers  on  the  starboard  quarter  broken;  the 
two  masts  had  been  carried  away,  the  bowsprit  broken 
off,  and  the  gunwale  stove  in;  and  the  hull  was  half 
full  of  blue  clay.  The  probability  seems  to  be  that 
the  yacht  was  run  down  by  a  felucca  during  the 
squall. 

Having  identified  the  bodies  of  Williams  and  Shelley, 
Mr.  Trelawny  proceeded  to  the  Villa  Magni,  in  order 
that  he  might  communicate  to  the  two  widows  the  sad 
intelligence  that  they  must  no  longer  cling  to  hope;  It 
will  be  seen  in  one  of  the  ensuing  letters,  contained  in 
the  next  chapter,  with  what  depth  of  feeling  he  dis- 
charged this  terrible  office. 

According  to  Italian  laws,  everything  cast  by  the  sea 
on  to  the  shore  must  be  burned,  to  prevent  the  possible 
introduction  of  the  plague.  Through  the  instrumentality 
of  Mr.  Dawkins,  our  consul  at  Florence,  Mr.  Trelawny 
was  allowed  to  superintend  the  cremation,  and  to  convey 
the  ashes,  when  all  was  over,  to  the  widows.  He  ex- 
erted himself  with  indefatigable  zeal,  and  at  length  got 
matters  ready  for  the  final  ceremony.  A  body  of  sol- 
diers had  been  despatched  to  the  Bocca  Lericcio  (where 
the  corpse  of  Williams  had  been  temporarily  buried  in 
the  sand),  to  see  that  the  quarantine  regulations  were 
not  contravened.  The  remains  lay  near  the  gnarled  root 
of  a  pine  tree ;  and,  while  the  soldiers  collected  fuel 
from  a  stunted  pine  wood  hard  by,  and  from  the  wrecks 
scattered  along  the  coast,  the  functionaries  of  the  Health 
Office  shovelled  out  the  sand,  and  laid  bare  the  corpse  — 
now  "  a  shapeless  mass  of  bones  and  flesh,"  as  Mr.  Tre- 

10 


218  SHELLEY   MEMORIALS. 

lawny  states  in  his  account.  On  seeing  the  black  silk 
handkerchief  which  the  dead  man  had  worn  round  his 
neck,  Lord  Byron  (who  was  present,  together  with  Leigh 
Hunt)  observed  —  "The  entrails  of  a  worm  hold  to- 
gether longer  than  the  potter's  clay  of  which  man  is 
made."  The  relics  were  then  cast  into  the  furnace, 
which  had  been  constructed,  under  the  direction  of  Mr. 
Trelawny,  of  iron  bars  and  strong  sheet-iron.  "  Don't 
repeat  this  with  me,"  said  Byron ;  "  let  my  carcass  rot 
where  it  falls."  Frankincense,  salt,  wine,  and  oil,  were 
thrown  on  the  pyre ;  a  light  was  set  to  the  materials ; 
and,  after  a  few  hours'  fierce  burning,  the  remains  were 
found  to  be  reduced  to  dark-colored  ashes  and  some 
fragments  of  the  larger  bones.  The  relics  were  then 
screwed  down  in  a  box  and  placed  in  Byron's  car- 
riage. 

This  took  place  on  the  15th  of  August.  On  the 
following  day,  the  same  ceremony  was  performed  with 
regard  to  the  corpse  of  Shelley,  which  lay  near  Via 
Reggio,  and  which,  like  that  of  Williams,  had  been 
temporarily  buried  in  the  sand.  Mr.  Trelawny,  Lord 
Byron,  and  Leigh  Hunt,  were  again  present,  and  a 
guard  of  soldiers,  as  on  the  former  occasion,  stood  by. 
The  spot  was  wild,  lonely,  and  inexpressibly  grand. 
In  front,  lay  the  broad,  bright  waters  of  the  Mediter- 
ranean, with  the  islands  of  Elba,  Capraji,  and  Gorgona, 
in  view;  the  white  marble  peaks  of  the  Apennines 
closed  the  prospect  behind,  cooling  the  intense  glare  of 
the  mid-day  sun  with  the  semblance  of  snow ;  and  all 
between  stretched  the  sands  (yellow  against  the  blue  of 


Shelley's  death  and  obsequies.  219 

the  sea),  and  a  wild,  bare,  uninhabited  country,  parched 
by  the  saline  air,  and  exhibiting  no  other  vegetation 
than  a  few  stunted  and  bent  tufts  of  underwood.  A 
row  of  high,  square  watch-towers,  stood  along  the  coast ; 
and  above,  in  the  hot  stillness,  soared  a  solitary  curlew, 
which  occasionally  circled  close  to  the  pile,  uttering 
its  shrill  scream,  and  defying  all  attempts  to  drive  it 
away. 

The  body  was  placed  entire  in  the  furnace,  and  wine, 
frankincense,  &c,  as  in  the  case  of  Williams,  were  cast 
on  to  the  pyre.  The  flames,  which  were  of  a  rich  golden 
hue,  broad  and  towering,  glistened  and  quivered,  and 
threw  out,  together  with  the  sunlight,  so  intense  a  heat, 
that  the  atmosphere  became  tremulous  and  wavy.  Leigh 
Hunt  witnessed  the  ceremony  from  Lord  Byron's  car- 
riage, occasionally  drawing  back  when  he  was  too  much 
overcome  to  allow  his  emotions  to  be  seen ;  while  Byron 
himself,  finding  his  fortitude  unequal  to  the  occasion,  left 
before  the  conclusion  of  the  rites. 

The  ashes  of  Shelley  were  deposited  in  the  Protestant 
burial-ground  at  Rome,  by  the  side  of  his  son  William, 
and  of  his  brother-poet  Keats.  An  inscription  in  Latin, 
simply  setting  forth  the  facts,  was  written  by  Leigh  Hunt, 
and  Mr.  Trelawny  added  a  few  lines  from  Shakspeare's 
Tempest  (one  of  Shelley's  favorite  plays)  :  — 

"  Nothing  of  him  that  doth  fade, 
But  doth  suffer  a  sea-change 
Into  something  rich  and  strange." 

The  same  gentleman  also  planted  eight  cypresses  round 


220  SHELLEY   MEMORIALS. 

the  spot,  of  which  seven  were  flourishing  in  1844,  and 
probably  are  still.* 

And  so  the  sea  and  the  earth  closed  over  one  who  was 
great  as  a  poet,  and  still  greater  as  a  philanthropist ;  and 
of  whom  it  may  be  said,  that  his  wild,  spiritual  character, 
seems  to  have  fitted  him  for  being  thus  snatched  from 
life  under  circumstances  of  mingled  terror  and  beauty, 
while  his  powers  were  yet  in  their  spring  freshness,  and 
age  had  not  come  to  render  the  ethereal  body  decrepit, 
or  to  wither  the  heart  which  could  not  be  consumed  by 
fire. 

*  The  facts,  on  which  the  foregoing  description  of  the  burning  of 
the  bodies  is  based,  are  derived  from  Captain  Medwin's  Conversations 
of  Lord  Byron  ;  Mr.  Trelawny's  Recollections  of  the  Last  Days  of 
Shelley  and  Byron;  and  Leigh  Hunt's  Autobiography. 


MARY    SHELLEY.  221 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


MARY    SHELLEY. 


A  widow  at  four-and-twenty  years  of  age  ;  left  in  a 
foreign  land,  with  no  certain  income,  and  with  a  child  to 
support ;  coldly  regarded  by  .her  husband's  family,  and 
possessed  of  no  influential  friends  in  England  ;  —  Mrs. 
Shelley  now  entered  on  a  struggle,  which  she  has  de- 
scribed as  "  lonely "  and  "  unsolaced,"  but  which  she 
encountered  in  the  true  spirit  of  heroism,  and  lived  to 
see  crowned  with  success,  and  rewarded  by  happier 
days. 

The  first  emotions  of  horror  at  the  death  of  her  hus- 
band gave  place  to  grief  of  a  calmer,  but  intenser,  kind. 
It  will  be  seen  in  the  ensuing  letters,  and  in  the  journal 
which  follows  them,  how  deep  was  the  agony  which  the 
young  widowed  heart  endured ;  how  abiding  the  sense 
of  loss ;  how  omnipresent  the  recollection  of  him,  whose 
genius  now  became  associated  with  all  sights  and  sounds 
of  earth,  sky,  and  ocean.  Italy  had  been  the  chosen 
land  of  Shelley ;  and  his  widow,  though  meeting  every- 
where with  some  ghost  of  old  companionship,  some  mem- 
ory of  that  which  had  vanished  forever  in  this  life,  clung 
for  a  long  while  to  the  country  which  had  witnessed  her 


222  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

greatest  joy  and  her  wildest  sorrow.  She  very  speedily, 
however,  left  the  Bay  of  Spezzia,  and  took  up  her  resi- 
dence at  Pisa. 

But  she  was  not  without  comforters  in  her  grief. 
Foremost  among  the  letters  she  received  from  England 
must  be  placed  one  from  her  father,  who,  on  the  9th  of 
August,  1822,  writes:  — 

"  My  poor  girl !  What  do  you  mean  to  do  with  yourself? 
You  surely  do  not  mean  to  stay  in  Italy  ?  How  glad  I  should 
be  to  be  near  you,  and  to  endeavor  by  new  expedients  each 
day  to  make  up  for  your  loss  !  But  you  are  the  best  judge. 
If  Italy  is  a  country  to  which  in  these  few  years  you  are  natu- 
ralized, and  if  England  is  become  dull  and  odious  to  you,  then 
stay. 

"  I  should  think,  however,  that  now  you  have  lost  your  clos- 
est friend,  your  mind  would  naturally  turn  homewards,  and 
[to]  your  earliest  friend.  Is  it  not  so  ?  Surely  we  might  be 
a  great  support  to  each  other,  under  the  trials  to  which  we  are 
reserved.  What  signify  a  few  outward  adversities,  if  we  find 
a  friend  at  home  ? 

"Above  all,  let  me  entreat  you  to  keep  up  your  courage. 
You  have  many  duties  to  perform ;  you  must  now  be  the 
father,  as  well  as  the  mother ;  and  I  trust  you  have  energy  of 
character  enough  to  enable  you  to  perform  your  duties  honor- 
ably and  well. 

"  Ever  and  ever  most  affectionately  yours, 

"W.  Godwin." 

FROM    MRS.   SHELLEY   TO    MISS   CURRAN. 

"  Pisa,  July  26th,  1822. 
"  My  dear  Miss  Curran, 

"  You  will  have  received  my  letter  concerning  the  pic- 
tures, and  now  I  have  another  request  to  make.     Your  kind- 


MARY    SHELLEY.  223 

ness  to  us  when  we  were  both  so  unhappy*  —  your  great 
kindness  —  makes  me  do  this  without  that  feeling  of  unwill- 
ingness which  I  have  in  asking  favors  of  any  other  person. 
Besides,  you  are  unhappy,  and  therefore  can  better  sympa- 
thize with  and  console  the  miserable.  You  would  greatly 
oblige  me,  if  you  would  get  me  from  one  of  those  shops  in  the 
Piazza  di  Spagna  two  mosaic  stones,  about  as  large  as  a  half- 
crown  piece.  On  one  I  wish  an  heart's-ease  to  be  depicted  ; 
they  call  these  flowers  in  Italian  Socera  huora,  or  Viola  far 
falla,  Viola  regolina,  Viola  renagola ;  on  the  other  (I  think  I 
have  seen  such  a  one),  a  view  of  the  tomb  of  Cestius.  I  re- 
member, also,  that  in  one  of  your  rooms  there  was  a  view  of 
this  place,  and  the  people  of  the  house  might  part  with  it,  or 
a  modern  artist  at  Rome  might  make  one  for  me,  which  would 
give  me  great  pleasure.  The  difficulty  is  to  pay  you  for  these 
things ;  but  as  soon  (if  you  have  the  extreme  kindness  to  fulfil 
my  requests)  as  I  know  what  money  you  spend  for  me,  I  will 
take  care  it  shall  be  remitted  to  you  without  delay. 

"  Will  you  indeed,  my  dear  Miss  Curran,  do  as  I  ask  you  ? 
Alas  !  these  trifles  (not  the  picture  —  that  is  no  trifle)  serve  as 
a  kind  of  vent  for  those  sentiments  of  personal  affection  and 
attentions  which  are  so  cruelly  crushed  forever.  In  a  little 
poem  of  his  are  these  words  :  '  Pansies  let  my  flowers  be/ 
Pansies  are  heart's-ease  ;  and  in  another  he  says,  that  pansies 
mean  memory.  So  I  would  make  myself  a  locket  to  wear  in 
eternal  memory,  with  the  representation  of  his  flower,  and 
with  his  hair ;  such  things  must  now  do  instead  of  words  of 
love,  and  the  dear  habit  of  seeing  him  daily.  Pity  me,  then, 
and  indulge  me. 

"  In  my  last  letter  I  was  so  selfish,  that  I  did  not  ask  after 
your  welfare.  Pray  write  to  me.  I  must  ever  be  grateful  to 
you  for  your  kindness  to  us  in  misfortune  ;  and  how  much 
more  when,  through  your  talents  and  your  goodness,  I  shall 
possess  the  only  likeness  that  is  of  my  husband's  earthly  form. 

*  From  the  loss  of  their  son  William,  at  Rome.  —  Ed. 


224  SHELLEY   MEMORIALS. 

"  My  little  Percy  is  well  —  not  so  beautiful  as  William, 
though  there  is  some  resemblance. 

"  Yours  ever  truly, 

"Mary  W.  Shelley." 


FROM  THE  SAME  TO  THE  SAME. 

"  Pisa,  August  Uth,  1822. 
"My  dear  Miss  Curran, 

"  I  have  written  two  letters  to  you,  requesting  that  favor 
now  nearer  my  heart  than  any  other  earthly  thing  —  the  pic- 
ture of  my  Shelley.  Perhaps  you  have  been  at  Gensano,  and 
that  delays  your  reply ;  perhaps  you  have  altered  your  resi- 
dence, and  have  not  received  my  letters. 

"  I  am  well ;  so  is  my  boy.  We  leave  Italy  soon  ;  so  I  am 
particularly  anxious  to  obtain  this  treasure,  which  I  am  sure 
you  will  give  me  as  soon  as  possible.  I  have  no  other  likeness 
of  him ;  and,  in  so  utter  desolation,  how  invaluable  to  me  is 
your  picture  !  *  Will  you  not  send  it  ?  Will  you  not  answer 
me  without  delay  ?  Your  former  kindness  bids  me  hope  every- 
thing. 

"  Very  sincerely  yours, 

"  M.  W.  Shelley." 

FROM   MRS.    SHELLEY   TO    MRS.    GISBORNE. 

"Pisa,  September  10th,  1822. 
"  And  so  here  I  am  !  I  continue  to  exist ;  to  see  one  day 
succeed  the  other ;  to  dread  night,  but  more  to  dread  morning, 
and  hail  another  cheerless  day.  My  boy,  too,  is,  alas  !  no  con- 
solation. When  I  think  how  he  loved  him  —  the  plans  he  had 
for  his  education  —  his  sweet  and  childish  voice  strikes  me  to 
the  heart.  Why  should  he  live  in  this  world  of  pain  and 
anguish  ?  And  if  he  went  I  should  go  too,  and  we  should  all 
sleep  in  peace. 

*  Of  Shelley.  — Ed. 


MARY    SHELLEY.  225 

"  At  times  I  feel  an  energy  within  me  to  combat  with  my 
destiny  —  but  again  I  sink.  I  have  but  one  hope,  for  which 
I  live  —  to  render  myself  worthy  to  join  him ;  and  such  a  feel- 
ing sustains  me  during  moments  of  enthusiasm ;  but  darkness 
and  misery  soon  overwhelm  the  mind,  when  all  near  objects 
bring  agony  alone  with  them.  People  used  to  call  me  lucky 
in  my  star  ;  you  see  now  how  true  such  a  prophecy  is  ! 

u 1  was  fortunate  in  having  fearlessly  placed  my  destiny  in 
the  hands  of  one  who  —  a  superior  being  among  men,  a  bright 
planetary  spirit  enshrined  in  an  earthly  temple  —  raised  me  to 
the  height  of  happiness.  So  far  am  I  now  happy,  that  I  would 
not  change  my  situation  as  his  widow  with  that  of  the  most 
prosperous  woman  in  the  world  ;  and  surely  the  time  will  at 
length  come  when  I  shall  be  at  peace,  and  my  brain  and  heart 
be  no  longer  alive  with  unutterable  anguish.  I  can  conceive 
but  of  one  circumstance  that  could  afford  me  the  semblance 
of  content  —  that  is,  the  being  permitted  to  live  where  I  am 
now,  in  the  same  house,  in  the  same  state,  occupied  alone  with 
my  child,  in  collecting  his  manuscripts,  writing  his  life,  and 
thus  to  go  easily  to  my  grave. 

"  But  this  must  not  be  !  Even  if  circumstances  did  not 
compel  me  to  return  to  England,  I  would  not  stay  another 
summer  in  Italy  with  my  child.  I  will  at  least  do  my  best  to 
render  him  well  and  happy ;  and  the  idea  that  my  circum- 
stances may  at  all  injure  him  is  the  fiercest  pang  my  mind 
endures. 

"  I  wrote  you  a  long  letter,  containing  a  slight  sketch  of  my 
sufferings.  I  sent  it,  directed  to  Peacock,  at  the  India  House, 
because  accident  led  me  to  believe  that  you  were  no  longer  in 
London.  I  said  in  that,  that  on  that  day  (Aug.  15)  they  had 
gone  to  perform  the  last  offices  for  him ;  however  I  erred  in 
this,  for  on  that  day  those  of  Edward  *  were  alone  fulfilled, 
and  they  returned  on  the  16th  to  celebrate  Shelley's.  I  will 
say  nothing  of  the  ceremony,  since  Trelawny  has  written  an 
account  of  it,  to  be  printed  in  the  forthcoming  journal.f     I 

*  Captain  Williams.  —  Ed,  f  The  Liberal.  —  Ed. 

10* 


22G  SHELLEY   MEMORIALS. 

will  only  say,  that  all  except  his  heart  (which  was  incon- 
sumable) was  burnt,  and  that  two  days  ago  I  went  to  Leghorn 
and  beheld  the  small  box  that  contained  his  earthly  dress. 
Those  smiles  —  that  form.  Great  God  !  no  —  he  is  not  there  ; 
he  is  with  me,  about  me  — life  of  my  life,  and  soul  of  my  soul ! 
If  his  divine  spirit  did  not  penetrate  mine,  I  could  not  survive 
to  weep  thus. 

"  I  will  mention  the  friends  I  have  here,  that  you  may  form 
an  idea  of  our  situation.  Mrs.  Williams  and  I  live  together. 
We  have  one  purse,  and,  joined  in  misery,  we  are  for  the 
present  joined  in  life. 

"  The  poor  girl  withers  like  a  lily.  She  lives  for  her  chil- 
dren, but  it  is  a  living  death.  Lord  Byron  has  been  \ery  kind. 
But  the  friend  to  whom  we  are  eternally  indebted  is  Trelawny. 
I  have,  of  course,  mentioned  him  to  you  as  one  who  wishes  to 
be  considered  eccentric,  but  who  was  noble  and  generous  at 
bottom.  I  always  thought  so,  even  when  no  fact  proved  it ; 
and  Shelley  agreed  with  me,  as  he  always  did,  or  rather,  I 
with  him.  We  heard  people  speak  against  him  on  account  of 
his  vagaries ;  we  said  to  one  another,  '  Still  we  like  him ;  we 
believe  him  to  be  good.'  Once,  even,  when  a  whim  of  his  led 
him  to  treat  me  with  something  like  impertinence,  I  forgave 
him,  and  I  have  now  been  well  rewarded.  In  my  outline  of 
events,  you  will  see  how  unasked  he  returned  with  Jane  and 
me  from  Leghorn  to  Lerici ;  how  he  stayed  with  us  miserable 
creatures  twelve  days  there,  endeavoring  to  keep  up  our 
spirits  ;  how  he  left  us  on  Thursday,  and,  finding  our  misfor- 
tune confirmed,  then  without  rest  returned  on  Friday  to  us, 
and,  again  without  rest,  returned  with  us  to  Pisa  on  Saturday. 
These  were  no  common  services.  Since  that,  he  has  gone 
through,  by  himself,  all  the  annoyances  of  dancing  attendance 
on  consuls  and  governors,  for  permission  to  fulfil  the  last  duties 
to  those  gone,  and  attending  the  ceremony  himself.  All  the 
disagreeable  part,  and  all  the  fatigue,  fell  on  him.  As  Hunt 
said,  '  He  worked  with  the  meanest,  and  felt  with  the  best.' 
He  is  generous  to  a  distressing  degree;  but  after  all  these 


MART    SHELLEY.  227 

benefits  to  us,  what  I  most  thank  him  for  is  this:  —  when  on 
that  night  of  agony  —  that  Friday  night  —  he  returned  to  an- 
nounce that  hope  was  dead  for  us  ;  when  he  had  told  me  that, 
his  earthly  frame  being  found,  his  spirit  was  no  longer  to  be 
my  guide,  protector  and  companion  in  this  dark  world, —  he 
did  not  attempt  to  console  me ;  that  would  have  been  too 
cruelly  useless ;  but  he  launches  forth  into,  as  it  were,  an 
overflowing  and  eloquent  praise  of  my  divine  Shelley,  till  I 
was  almost  happy  that  I  was  thus  unhappy,  to  be  fed  by  the 
praise  of  him,  and  to  dwell  on  the  eulogy  that  his  loss  thus 
drew  from  his  friend. 

"  God  knows  what  will  become  of  me !  My  life  is  now  very 
monotonous  as  to  outward  events ;  yet  how  diversified  by  in- 
ternal feeling  !  How  often,  in  the  intensity  of  grief,  does  one 
instant  seem  to  fill  and  embrace  the  universe  !  As  to  the  rest 
—  the  mechanical  spending  of  my  time  —  of  course  I  have  a 
great  deal  to  do,  preparing  for  my  journey.  I  make  no  visits, 
except  one,  once  in  about  ten  days,  to  Mrs.  Mason.  Tre- 
lawny  resides  chiefly  at  Leghorn,  since  he  is  captain  of  Lord 
Byron's  vessel,  the  '  Bolivar.'  He  comes  to  see  us  about  once 
a  week,  and  Lord  Byron  visits  us  about  twice  a  week,  accom- 
panied by  the  Guiccioli ;  but  seeing  people  is  an  annoyance 
which  I  am  happy  to  be  spared.  Solitude  is  my  only  help 
and  resource.  Accustomed,  even  when  he  was  with  me,  to 
spend  much  of  my  time  alone,  I  can  at  those  moments  forget 
myself,  until  some  idea,  which  I  think  I  would  communicate  to 
him,  occurs,  and  then  the  yawning  and  dark  gulf  again  dis- 
plays itself,  unshaded  by  the  rainbows  which  the  imagination 
had  formed.  Despair,  energy,  love,  desponding  and  excessive 
affliction,  are  like  clouds  driven  across  my  mind,  one  by  one, 
until  trees  blot  the  scene,  and  weariness  of  spirit  consigns  me 
to  temporary  repose. 

u  I  shudder  with  horror  when  I  look  back  upon  what  I  have 
suffered ;  and  when  I  think  of  the  wild  and  miserable  thoughts 
that  have  possessed  me,  I  say  to  myself:  '  Is  it  true  that  I  ever 
felt  thus?'      And  then  I  weep  in  pity  for  myself;  yet  each 


228  SHELLEY  MEMORIALS. 

day  adds  to  the  stock  of  sorrow,  and  death  is  the  only  end.  I 
would  study,  and  I  hope  I  shall.  I  would  write,  and,  when  I 
am  settled,  I  may.  But  were  it  not  for  the  steady  hope  I  en- 
tertain of  joining  him,  what  a  mockery  would  be  this  world  ! 
Without  that  hope,  I  could  not  study  or  write ;  for  fame  and 
usefulness  (except  as  far  as  regards  my  child)  are  nullities  to 
me.  Yet  I  shall  be  happy  if  anything  I  ever  produce  may 
exalt  and  soften  sorrow,  as  the  writings  of  the  divinities  of  our 
race  have  mine.     But  how  can  I  aspire  to  that  ? 

"  The  world  will  surely  one  day  feel  what  it  has  lost,  when 
this  bright  child  of  song  deserted  her.  Is  not  Adonais  his  own 
elegy?  And  there  does  he  truly  depict  the  universal  woe 
which  should  overspread  all  good  minds,  since  he  has  ceased 
to  be  their  fellow-laborer  in  this  worldly  scene.  How  lovely 
does  he  paint  death  to  be,  and  with  what  heartfelt  sorrow  does 
one  repeat  that  line  — 

'  But  I  am  chain'd  to  time,  and  cannot  thence  depart! ' 

How  long  do  you  think  I  shall  live  ?  As  long  as  my  mother  ? 
Then  eleven  long  years  must  intervene.  I  am  now  on  the  eve 
of  completing  my  five-and-twentieth  year.  How  drearily 
young  for  one  so  lost  as  I !  How  young  in  years  for  one  who 
lives  ages  each  day  in  sorrow !  Think  you  that  those  moments 
are  counted  in  my  life  as  in  other  people's  ?  Ah,  no  !  The 
day  before  the  sea  closed  over  mine  own  Shelley,  he  said  to 
Marianne,*  '  If  I  die  to-morrow,  I  have  lived  to  be  older  than 
my  father.  I  am  ninety  years  of  age.'  Thus  also  may  I  say. 
The  eight  years  I  passed  with  him  were  spun  out  beyond  the 
usual  length  of  a  man's  life ;  and  what  I  have  suffered  since 
will  write  years  on  my  brow,  and  entrench  them  in  my  heart. 
Surely  I  am  not  long  for  this  world.  Most  sure  should  I  be 
were  it  not  for  my  boy ;  but  God  grant  that  I  may  live  to 
make  his  early  years  happy  ! 

"  Well,  adieu !  I  have  no  events  to  write  about,  and  can 
therefore  only  scrawl  about  my  feelings.    This  letter,  indeed,  is 

*  Mrs.  Leigh  Hunt.  —  Ed. 


MARY    SHELLEY.  229 

only  the  sequel  of  my  last.  In  that  I  closed  the  history  of  all 
that  can  interest  me.  That  letter  I  wish  you  to  send  my 
father ;  the  present  one,  it  is  best  not. 

"  I  suppose  1  shall  see  you  in  England  some  of  these  days ; 
but  I  shall  write  to  you  again  before  I  quit  this  place.  Be  as 
happy  as  you  can,  and  hope  for  better  things  in  the  next 
world.  By  firm  hope  you  may  attain  your  wishes.  Again 
adieu ! 

"  Affectionately  yours, 

"  M.  W.  Shelley." 

FROM    MRS.    SHELLEY   TO    MRS.    GISBORNE. 

"  Genoa,  September  17l7i,  1822. 
"  I  am  here  alone  in  Genoa ;  quite,  quite  alone  !  Jane  has 
left  me  to  proceed  to  England,  and,  except  my  sleeping  child, 
I  am  alone.  Since  you  do  not  communicate  with  my  father, 
you  will  perhaps  be  surprised,  after  my  last  letter,  that  I  do  not 
come  to  England.  I  have  written  to  him  a  long  account  of  the 
arguments  of  all  my  friends  to  dissuade  me  from  that  miserable 
journey ;  Jane  will  detail  them  to  you ;  and  therefore  I 
merely  say  now  that,  having  no  business  there,  I  am  deter- 
mined not  to  spend  that  money,  which  will  support  me  nearly 
a  year  here,  in  .a  journey,  the  sole  end  of  which  appears  to  me 
the  necessity  I  should  be  under,  when  arrived  in  London,  of 
being  a  burden  to  my  father.  When  my  crowns  are  gone,  if 
Sir  T.  refuses,  I  hope  to  be  able  to  support  myself  by  my 
writings  and  mine  own  Shelley's  MSS.  At  least,  during  many 
long  months,  I  shall  have  peace  as  to  money  affairs  ;  and  one 
evil  the  less  is  much  to  one  whose  existence  is  suffering  alone. 
Lord  Byron  has  a  house  here,  and  will  arrive  soon ;  I  have 
taken  a  house  for  the  Hunts  and  myself,  outside  one  of  the 
gates.  It  is  large  and  neat,  with  a  podere  attached.  We 
shall  pay  about  eighty  crowns  between  us ;  so  I  hope  that  I 
shall  find  tranquillity  from  care  this  winter — though  that  may 
be  the  last  of  my  life  so  free.  Yet  I  do  not  hope  it,  though  I 
say  so ;  —  hope  is  a  word  that  belongs  not  to  my  situation. 


230  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

'He  —  my  own  beloved  —  the  exalted  and  divine  Shelley,  has 
left  me  alone  in  this  miserable  world  —  this  earth  canopied 
by  the  eternal  starry  heaven,  where  he  is  —  where  —  Oh,  my 
God  !     Yes  —  where  I  shall  one  day  be  ! 

"  Jane  quitted  me  this  morning  at  four.  After  she  left  me, 
I  again  went  to  rest,  and  thought  of  Herghano,  its  halls,  its 
cypresses,  the  perfume  of  its  mountains,  and  the  gayety  of  our 
life  beneath  their  shadow.  Then  I  dozed  awhile,  and  in  my 
dream  saw  dear  Edward  most  visibly.  He  came,  he  said,  to 
pass  a  few  hours  with  us,  but  could  not  stay  long.  Then  I 
woke,  and  the  day  began.  I  went  out  —  took  Hunt's  house 
—  but,  as  I  walked,  I  felt  that  which  is  with  me  the  sign  of 
unutterable  grief.  I  am  not  given  to  tears  ;  and,  though  my 
most  miserable  fate  has  often  turned  my  eyes  to  fountains,  yet 
oftener  I  suffer  agonies  unassuaged  by  tears.  But,  during 
these  last  sufferings,  I  have  felt  an  oppression  at  my  heart 
I  never  felt  before.  It  is  not  a  palpitation,  but  a  stringemento 
which  is  quite  convulsive,  and,  did  I  not  struggle  greatly, 
would  cause  violent  hysterics.  Looking  on  the  sea,  or  hearing 
its  roar  —  his  dirge  —  it  comes  upon  me  ;  but  these  are  cor- 
poreal sufferings  I  can  get  over.  That  which  is  insurmountable 
is  the  constant  feeling  of  despair  that  shadows  me  ;  I  seem  to 
walk  on  a  narrow  path  with  fathomless  precipices  all  around 
me ;  yet  where  can  I  fall  ?  I  have  already  fallen,  and  all  that 
comes  of  bad  or  good  is  a  mere  mockery. 

"  Those  about  me  have  no  idea  of  what  I  suffer ;  none  are 
sufficiently  interested  in  me  to  observe  that,  though  my  lips 
smile,  my  eyes  are  blank,  or  to  notice  the  desolate  look  that  I 
cast  upwards  towards  the  sky.  Pardon,  dear  friend,  this  selfish- 
ness in  writing  thus.  There  are  moments  when  the  heart  must 
sfogare,  or  be  suffocated  ;  and  such  a  moment  is  this.  When 
quite  alone,  my  babe  sleeping,  and  dear  Jane  having  just  left 
me,  it  is  with  difficulty  I  prevent  myself  from  flying  from 
mental  misery  by  bodily  exertion,  when  to  run  into  that  vast 
grave  (the  sea),  until  I  sink  to  rest,  would  be  a  pleasure  to 
me ;  and,  instead  of  this,  I  write,  and  as  I  write  I  say,  '  Oh 


MARY    SHELLEY.  231 

God  !  have  pity  on  me  ! '  At  least,  I  will  have  pity  on  you. 
Good  night !  I  will  finish  this  when  people  are  about  me,  and 
I  am  in  a  more  cheerful  mood.  Good  night !  I  will  go  look  at 
the  stars ;  they  are  eternal ;  so  is  he  —  so  am  I. 

u  You  have  not  written  to  me  since  my  misfortune.  I  un- 
derstand this ;  you  first  waited  for  a  letter  from  me,  and  that 
letter  told  you  not  to  write.  But  answer  this  as  soon  as  you 
receive  it.  Talk  to  me  of  yourself,  and  also  of  my  English 
affairs.  I  am  afraid  that  they  will  not  go  on  very  well  in  my 
absence ;  but  it  would  cost  more  to  set  them  light  than  they 
are  worth.  I  will,  however,  let  you  know  what  I  think  my 
friends  ought  to  do,  that  when  you  talk  to  Peacock,  he  may 
learn  what  I  wish.  A  claim  should  be  made  on  the  part  of 
Shelley's  executors  for  a  maintenance  for  my  child  and  my- 
self from  Sir  Timothy.  Lord  Byron  is  ready  to  do  this  or  any 
other  service  for  me  that  his  office  of  executor  demands  from 
him.  But  I  do  not  wish  it  to  be  done  separately  by  him,  and 
I  wait  to  hear  from  England  before  I  ask  him  to  write  to 
Whitton  on  the  subject.  Secondly,  Oilier  must  be  asked  for 
all  MSS.,  and  some  plan  be  reflected  on  for  the  best  manner 
of  republishing  Shelley's  works,  as  well  as  the  writings  he  has 
left. 

"  Who  will  allow  money  to  Ianthe  and  Charles  ?  * 

"  As  for  you,  my  dear  friends,  I  do  not  see  what  you  can 
do  for  me,  except  to  send  me  the  originals  or  copies  of  Shel- 
ley's most  interesting  letters  to  you.  I  hope  soon  to  get  into 
my  house,  where  writing,  copying  Shelley's  MSS.,  walking,  and 
being  of  some  use  in  the  education  of  Marianne's  children, 
will  be  my  occupations.  Where  is  that  letter  in  verse  Shelley 
once  wrote  to  you  ?     Let  me  have  a  copy  of  it. 

"  Here  is  a  long  letter  all  about  myself;  but,  though  I  can- 
not write,  I  like  to  hear  of  others. 

"  Adieu,  dear  friends  ! 

"  Your  sincerely  attached, 

"  Mary  W.  Shelley." 
*  Shelley's  children  by  his  first  wife.  —  Ed. 


232  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

FROM   MRS.    SHELLEY   TO    MRS.    GISBORNE. 

"Albeno,  near  Genoa,  Nov.  22d,  1822. 
"My  dear  Friend, 

"No  one  ever  writes  to  me.  Each  day,  one  like  the 
other,  passes  on,  and,  if  I  were  where  I  would  that  I  were, 
methinks  I  could  not  be  more  forgotten.  I  cannot  write  my- 
self, only  to  cast  the  shadow  of  my  misery  on  others. 

"  What  I  have  endured  is  not  to  be  alleviated  by  time ;  for 
every  new  event  and  thought  brings  more  clearly  before  me 
the  fearful  change.  My  ideas,  wanting  their  support,  fall; 
wanting  their  mate,  they  pine ;  and  nothing  the  earth  contains 
can  alleviate  that.  I  see  no  one  who  did -not  know  him ;  and 
thus  I  try  to  patch  up  the  links  of  a  broken  chain.  I  see,  con- 
sequently, only  the  Hunts,  Lord  Byron,  and  Trelawny ;  but, 
although  Hunt  knew  him,  he  did  not  know  him  lately,  so  my 
freshest  impressions  are  void  for  him.  Lord  Byron  reminds 
me  most  of  Shelley  in  a  certain  way,  for  I  always  saw  them 
together ;  and,  when  Lord  Byron  speaks,  I  wait  for  Shelley's 
voice  in  answer  as  the  natural  result.  But  this  feeling  must 
wear  off ;  and  there  is  so  little  resemblance  in  their  minds,  that 
Lord  Byron  seldom  speaks  to  me  of  him  without  unwittingly 
wounding  and  torturing  me.  With  Trelawny  I  can  talk,  and 
do  talk,  for  hours  unreservedly  of  him  ;  but  he  is  about  to  leave 
us  and  then  I  shall  be  thrown  on  my  own  mind,  to  seek  in  its 
frightful  depths  for  memories  and  eternal  sorrow. 

"  Pardon  me,  that  I  still  write  in  this  incoherent  and  unlet- 
ter  like  manner ;  but  I  strive  in  vain  to  do  better.  My  last 
letter  is  a  proof  of  how  I  succeed ;  for,  when  I  curb  myself  to 
the  relation  of  facts  alone,  or  determine  so  to  curb  myself,  I 
put  off  writing  from  day  to  day,  endeavoring  to  catch  the  mo- 
ment when  I  shall  feel  less.  But,  the  pen  in  my  hand,  the 
same  spirit  guides  it,  and  one  only  thought  swells  the  torrent 
of  words  that  is  poured  out.  Perhaps  it  would  be  better  not 
to  write  at  all ;  but  the  weakness  of  human  nature  is  to  seek 


MART    SHELLEY.  233 

for  sympathy.  I  think  but  of  one  thing  —  my  past  life.  While 
living,  (do  I  live  now  ?)  I  loved  to  imagine  futurity,  and  now 
I  strive  to  do  the  same ;  but  I  have  nothing  desirable  to  imag- 
ine, save  death;  and  my  fancy  flags,  or  sleeps,  or  wanders, 
when  it  endeavors  to  pursue  other  thoughts.  I  imagine  my 
child  dead,  and  what  I  should  do  then.  I  feel  that  my  whole 
life  will  be  one  misery ;  it  will  be  so  —  mark  me  ! 

"  The  Hunts  are  getting  on  well.  Marianne  is  not  better, 
but  she  is  not  worse.  We  often  see  Trelawny  of  an  evening. 
Hunt  likes  him  very  much;  and,  for  me,  I  feel  so  deep  a 
gratitude  to  him  that  my  heart  is  full  but  to  name  him.  He 
supported  us  in  our  miseries  —  my  ^poor  Jane  and  me.  But 
for  him,  menials  would  have  performed  the  most  sacred  of 
offices ;  and  when  I  shake  his  hand,  I  feel  to  the  depth  of  my 
soul  that  those  hands  collected  those  ashes.  Yes ;  for  I  saw 
them  burned  and  scorched  from  the  office.  No  fatigue  —  no 
sun,  or  nervous  horrors  —  deterred  him,  as  one  or  the  other  of 
these  causes  deterred  others.  He  stood  on  the  burning  sand 
for  many  hours  beside  the  pyre ;  if  he  had  been  permitted  by 
the  soldiers,  he  would  have  placed  him  there  in  his  arms.  I 
never,  never  can  forget  this ;  and  now  he  talks  of  little  else 
save  my  Shelley  and  Edward. 

"  I  wish  all  MSS.  to  be  sent,  without  any  exception,  and  as 
soon  as  possible.  I  have  heard  from  Miss  Curran.  She  is  in 
Paris,  and  my  Shelley's  picture  is  at  Rome.  Nothing,  there- 
fore, can  be  done  With  regard  to  that ;  so  pray  let  me  have  the 
MSS.  without  any  delay — and  let  me  entreat  you,  as  you  love 
me,  to  wait  for  nothing,  but,  the  very  moment  the  MSS.  are 
obtained  from  Peacock,  to  send  them  to  me.  This  is  of  more 
consequence  to  me  than  you  think. 

"  I  wish  you  would  enter  into  an  unbreakable  engagement  to 
me,  to  write  to  me  once  a  month.  Your  letter  may  be  the 
work  of  several  hours  scattered  over  the  month ;  but  put  a 
long  letter  into  the  post  for  me  the  first  of  every  month.  I 
want  some  object  —  some  motive,  great  or  small.  I  should 
look  forward  to  your  letter  as  a  certain  thing,  and  it  would  be 


234  SHELLEY   MEMORIALS. 

something  to  expect.  Never  mind  what  you  write  about ;  let 
it  be  about  his  friends  —  some  facts ;  it  would  be  a  great  solace 
to  me ;  indeed  it  would. 

"  Well,  good  night.  As  usual,  all  are  in  bed  except  me  — 
my  restless  thoughts  homeless  in  this  world,  if  they  do  not  steal 
to  the  bedside  of  my  sleeping  babe;  and  there  I  tremble. 
But  I  think  the  new  soul  tries  to  amalgamate  itself  with  its 
stubborn  shrine,  and,  if  it  be  too  finely  tempered,  it  cannot 
succeed.  Something  earthly,  though  good,  seems  to  announce 
the  decision  of  nature.  So  it  is  with  Percy.  The  crisis  was 
last  summer  —  how  I  trembled  for  him  then  !  —  and  now  it  is 
not  reason,  but  habit,  that  makes  me  shudder. 

,"I  hear  that  Peacock  has  given  the  Essay  on  Poetry  to  be 
published  for  the  Liberal,  and  added  that  he  had  other  MSS. 
Now,  I  am  convinced  there  is  nothing  perfect,  and  I  wish  all 
to  be  sent  to  me  without  delay. 

"  Adieu ! 

"Affectionately  yours, 

"Mary  W.  Shelley." 


FROM   GODWIN   TO    MRS.    SHELLEY. 

"  Strand,  Feb.  Uth,  1823. 
"  My  dear  Mary, 

"  I  have  this  moment  received  a  copy  of  Sir  Timothy 
Shelley's  letter  to  Lord  Byron,  dated  February  6th,  and 
which  therefore  you  will  have  seen  long  before  this  reaches 
you.  You  will  easily  imagine  how  anxious  I  am  to  hear  from 
you,  and  to  know  the  state  of  your  feelings  under  this,  which 
seems  like  the  last  blow  of  fate. 

"  I  need  not  of  course  attempt  to  assist  your  judgment  upon 
the  proposition  of  taking  the  child  from  you.     I  am  sure  your 
feelings  would  never  allow  you  to  entertain  such  a  proposition. 
******* 

"  I  requested  you  to  let  Lord  Byron's  letter  to  Sir  Timothy 


MARY   SHELLEY.  235 

Shelley  pass  through  my  hands,  and  you  did  so ;  but,  to  my 
great  mortification,  it  reached  me  sealed  with  his  Lordship's 
arms,  so  that  I  remain  wholly  ignorant  of  its  contents.  If 
you  could  send  me  a  copy,  I  should  then  be  much  better  ac- 
quainted with  your  present  situation. 

"  Your  novel  is  now  fully  printed  and  ready  for  publication. 
I  have  taken  great  liberties  with  it,  and  I  fear  your  amour 
propre  will  be  proportionably  shocked.  I  need  not  tell  you 
that  all  the  merit  of  the  book  is  exclusively  your  own.  Bea- 
trice is  the  jewel  of  the  book ;  not  but  that  I  greatly  admire 
Euthanasia,  and  I  think  the  characters  of  Pepi,  Binda,  and 
the  witch,  decisive  efforts  of  original  genius.  I  am  promised 
a  character  of  the  work  in  the  Morning  Chronicle  and  the 
Herald,  and  was  in  hopes  to  have  sent  you  the  one  or  the 
other  by  this  time.  I  also  sent  a  copy  of  the  book  to  the  Ex- 
aminer, for  the  same  purpose. 

"  Tuesday,  Feb.  ISth. 

"  Do  not,  I  entreat  you,  be  cast  down  about  your  worldly 
circumstances.  You  certainly  contain  within  yourself  the 
means  of  your  subsistence.  Your  talents  are  truly  extraordi- 
nary. Frankenstein  is  universally  known,  and,  though  it  can 
never  be  a  book  for  vulgar  reading,  is  everywhere  respected. 
It  is  the  most  wonderful  work  to  have  been  written  at  twenty 
years  of  age  *  that  I  ever  heard  of.  You  are  how  five-and- 
twenty,  and,  most  fortunately,  you  have  pursued  a  course  of 
reading,  and  cultivated  your  mind,  in  a  manner  the  most  ad- 
mirably adapted  to  make  you  a  great  and  successful  author. 
If  you  cannot  be  independent,  who  should  be  ? 

"  Your  talents,  as  far  as  I  can  at  present  discern,  are  turned 
for  the  writing  of  fictitious  adventures. 

"  If  it  shall  ever  happen  to  you  to  be  placed  in  sudden  and 
urgent  want  of  a  small  sum,  I  entreat  you  to  let  me  know 

*  Frankenstein  was  written  by  Mrs.  Shelley  when  she  was  only 
eighteen,  but  not  published  until  she  was  twenty. —  Ed. 


236  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

immediately.    We  must  see  what  I  can  do.     We  must  help 
one  another. 

"  Your  affectionate  father, 

"  William  Godwin." 


FROM   MRS.    SHELLEY   TO   MRS.   GISBORNE. 

"Albaro,  May  3d,  1823. 
"My  dear  Mrs.  Gisborne, 

"  Your  letter  was  very  pleasing  to  me,  since  it  showed 
me  that  it  was  not  want  of  affection  that  caused  your  silence. 
Utter  solitude  is  delightful  to  me;  but  in  the  midst  of  the 
waste,  I  am  much  comforted  when  I  hear  the  quiet  voice  of 
friendship  telling  me  that  I  am  still  loved  by  some  one,  and 
especially  by  those  who  knew  my  Shelley,  and  have  been  his 
companions.  You  say  well  that  it  is  an  almost  insurmountable 
difficulty  in  expressing  your  thoughts  that  causes  you  to  be 
silent ;  for,  though  occupation  or  indolence  may  often  prevent 
your  exerting  yourself,  yet,  when  you  do  write,  yours  are  the 
best  letters  I  receive,  especially  as  far  as  clearness  and  infor- 
mation goes. 

"  I  had  a  letter  to-day  from  Trelawny  at  Rome,  concerning 
the  disposition  of  the  earthly  dress  of  my  lost  one.  He  is  in 
the  Protestant  burying-ground  at  that  place,  which  is  beside, 
and  not  before,  the  tomb  of  Cestius.  The  old  wall,  with  an 
ancient  tower,  bounds  it  on  one  side,  and  beneath  this  tower 
(a  weed-grown  and  picturesque  ruin)  the  excavation  has  been 
made.  Trelawny  has  sent  me  a  drawing  of  it,  and  he  thus 
writes :  — '  Placed  apart,  yet  in  the  centre,  and  the  most  con- 
spicuous spot  in  the  burying-ground,  I  have  just  planted  six 
young  cypresses  and  four  laurels,  in  the  front  of  the  recess 
which  you  see  in  the  drawing,  and  which  is  caused  by  the  pro- 
jecting part  of  the  old  ruin.  My  own  stone  (Trelawny,  you 
know,  one  of  the  best  and  most  generous  of  natures,  is  eccen- 
tric in  his  way),  a  plain  slab,  till  I  can  decide  upon  some  fit- 


MARY    SHELLEY.  237 

ting  inscription,  is  placed  on  the  left  hand.  I  have  likewise 
dug  my  grave,  so  that,  when  I  die,  there  is  only  to  lift  up  the 
coverlet,  and  roll  me  into  it.  You  may  lie  on  the  other  side  if 
you  like.  It  is  a  lovely  spot.  The  only  inscription  on  Shel- 
ley's stone,  besides  the  Cor  cordium  of  Hunt,  are  three  lines 
I  have  added  from  Shakspeare :  — 

"  Nothing  of  him  that  doth  fade, 
But  doth  suffer  a  sea-change 
Into  something  rich  and  strange." 

This  quotation,  by  its  double  meaning,  alludes  both  to  the 
manner  of  his  death  and  his  genius  ;  and  I  think  the  element 
on  which  his  soul  took  wing,  and  the  subtle  essence  of  his 
being  mingled,  may  still  retain  him  in  some  other  shape.  The 
water  may  keep  the  dead,  as  the  earth  may,  and  fire  and  air. 
His  passionate  fondness  may  have  arisen  from  some  sweet 
sympathy  in  his  nature ;  thence  the  fascination  which  so  for- 
cibly attracted  him,  without  fear  or  caution,  to  trust  an  ele- 
ment which  almost  all  others  hold  in  superstitious  dread,  and 
venture  as  cautiously  on  as  they  would  in  a  lair  of  lions/ 

"  This  quotation  is  pleasing  to  me  also,  because,  a  year  ago, 
Trelawny  came  one  afternoon  in  high  spirits,  with  news  con- 
cerning the  building  of  the  boat,  saying  *  Oh,  we  must  all 
embark,  all  live  aboard;  we  will  all  "suffer  a  sea-change."' 
And  dearest  Shelley  was  delighted  with  the  quotation,  saying 
that  he  would  have  it  for  the  motto  of  his  boat. 

"  Captain  Koberts  (Jane  will  tell  you  who  he  is)  is  just 
come,  from  Rome.  He  confirms  all  that  is  said  in  this  letter. 
Roberts  has  bought  the  hulk  of  that  miserable  boat  —  new 
rigged  her  even  with  higher  masts  than  before.  He  has  sailed 
with  her  at  the  rate  of  eight  knots  an  hour,  and  on  such  occa- 
sions tried  various  experiments  —  hazardous  ones  —  to  discover 
how  the  catastrophe  that  closed  the  scene  for  poor  Jane  and 
myself  happened.  It  is  plain  to  every  eye.  She  was  run 
down  from  behind.  On  bringing  her  up  from  fifteen  fathom, 
all  was  in  her  —  boots,  telescope,  ballast  —  lying  on  each  side 


238  SHELLEY   MEMORIALS. 

of  the  boat  without  any  appearance  of  shifting  or  confusion ; 
the  topsails  furled,  topmast  lowered ;  the  false  stern  (J.  can 
explain)  broken  to  pieces,  and  a  great  hole  knocked  in  the 
stern  timbers.  "When  she  was  brought  to  Leghorn,  every  one 
went  to  see  her,  and  the  same  exclamation  was  uttered  by  all : 
*  She  was  run  down '  —  by  that  wretched  fishing-boat  which 
owned  that  it  had  seen  them. 

"  I  have  written  myself  into  a  state  of  agitation.  If  I  con- 
tinued my  letter,  it  would  only  be  to  pour  out  the  bitterness 
of  my  heart.  Oh,  this  spring  is  so  beautiful !  The  clear  sky 
shines  above  the  calm  murderer ;  the  trees  are  all  in  leaf,  and 
a  soft  air  is  among  them ;  the  stars  tell  of  other  spheres  where 
I  pray  to  be ;  for  all  this  beauty,  while  at  times  it  elevates  me, 
yet  in  strange,  words  tells  me  that  he,  the  best  and  most  beau- 
tiful, is  gone. 

'Oh,  follow,  follow! 
****** 
And  on  each  herb,  from  which  Heaven's  dew  had  fallen, 
The  like  was  stamp'd,  as  with  awithering  fire. 

*  *****  * 

And  then, 
Low,  sweet,  faint  sounds,  like  the  farewell  of  ghosts, 
Were  heard:   "  Oh,  follow,  follow,  follow  me!  "  '  * 

"  I  will  finish  my  letter  Monday.  God  bless  you !  Good 
night !  I  often  see  him  —  both  he  and  Edward  —  in  dreams ; 
perhaps  I  shall  to-night.  At  least,  I  shall  not  be  in  sleep,  as  I 
now.     The  clinging  present  is  so  odious. 

"  May  Gth. 

"  I  finish  my  letter.  You  will  soon  see  me  in  England.  It 
is  not  my  own  desire,  or  for  my  own  advantage,  that  I  go,  but 
for  my  boy's  ;  so  I  am  fixed,  and  enjoy  these  blue  skies,  and 
the  sight  of  vines  and  olive  groves,  for  the  last  time.  1  hope, 
indeed,  to  return,  if  only  for  repose.     The  fear  of  the  advanc- 

Lines  from  Prometheus  Unbound.  —  Ed. 


MARY    SHELLEY.  239 

ing  season  will  make  me  begin  my  journey  as  quickly  as  pos- 
sible. I  should  in  any  case  have  feared  an  Italian  summer  for 
my  delicate  child.  The  climate  of  England  will  agree  with 
him.     Adieu,  my  dear  friend  ! 

"  Affectionately  yours, 

"  Mary  W.  Shelley." 

FROM   GODWIN   TO    MRS.    SHELLEY. 

"No.  195  Strand,  May  6th,  1823. 

"  It  certainly  is,  my  dear  Mary,  with  great  pleasure  that  I 
anticipate  that  we  shall  once  again  meet.  It  is  a  long,  long 
time  now  since  you  have  spent  one  night  under  my  roof.  You 
are  grown  a  woman,  have  been  a  wife,  a  mother,  a  widow. 
You  have  realized  talents  which  I  but  faintly  and  doubtfully 
anticipated.  I  am  grown  an  old  man,  and  want  a  child  of 
my  own  to  smile  on  and  console  me. 

"  When  you  first  set  your  foot  in  London,  of  course  I  ex- 
pect that  it  will  be  in  this  house ;  but  the  house  is  smaller,  one 
floor  less,  than  the  house  in  Skinner-street ;  it  will  do  well 
enough  for  you  to  make  shift  with  for  a  few  days ;  but  it  would 
not  do  for  a  permanent  residence.  But  I  hope  we  shall  at 
least  have  you  near  us  —  within  a  call  —  how  different  from 
your  being  on  the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean ! 

"  Your  novel  has  sold  five  hundred  copies  —  half  the  im- 
pression. I  ought  to  have  written  to  you  sooner.  Your  letter 
reached  me  on  the  18th  ult. ;  but  I  have  been  unusually  sur- 
rounded with  perplexities. 

"  Your  affectionate  father, 

"Wm.  Godwin." 

Mrs.  Shelley  and  her  child  arrived  in  England  early 
in  the  autumn  of  1823.  After  an  absence  in  Italy  of 
nearly  six  years,  the  climate  of  this  country  struck  her 
with  a  painful  sense  of  gloom  and  oppression ;   and  she 


240  SHELLEY   MEMORIALS. 

records  in  her  journal  her  ardent  desire  to  return  as  soon 
as  possible  to  the  South.  She  mentions  that  one  word 
of  the  Italian  language,  heard  by  chance,  brings  tears 
into  her  eyes,  though  she  describes  Italy  as  the  murderess 
of  those  she  loved,  and  of  all  her  happiness. 

For  some  time  after  her  arrival  in  London,  Mrs. 
Shelley  resided  with  her  father,  who  was  now  living  in 
the  Strand;  but  she  subsequently  removed  to  Kentish 
Town,  and  then  to  Harrow,  ;.n  order  that  she  might  be 
near  her  son,  who  was  being  educated  at  the  school  there. 
The  expenses  incidental  to  tuition  tried  her  severely; 
besides  whicn,  she  contributed  towards  the  support  of  her 
aged  father ;  but,  with  a  noble  energy  of  character  and 
entice  self-devotion,  she  worked  incessantly  with  her 
pen,  and  met  her  liabilities  by  the  fruits  of  her  literary 
industry. 

The  novels  which  she  published  after  the  death  of  her 
husband  were  —  Valperga,  in  1823 ;  The  Last  Man, 
1824;  Perkin  Warbeck,  1830;  Lodore,  1835;  and  Falk- 
ner,  1837.  She  wrote  all  the  Italian  and  Spanish  lives 
in  Lardner's  Encyclopaedia,  with  the  exception  of  Tasso 
and  Galileo  ;  and  she  greatly  regretted  that  the  former 
did  not  fall  to  her  share.  She  also  wrote  two  volumes, 
under  the  title  of  Rambles  in  Germany  and  Italy,  giving 
an  account  of  her  travels  with  her  son,  his  tutor,  and 
some  companion,  in  later  years ;  contributed  several 
short  productions  to  the  annuals,  and  edited  (1839-40) 
Shelley's  poetical  works,  his  letters,  and  his  prose  writ- 
ings. 

During  the  earlier  days  of  her  return  to   England, 


MARY    SHELLEY.  241 

she  had  to  fight  hard  against  a  sense  of  despondency, 
which  at  times  almost  overcame  her.  On  the  14th  of 
May,  1824,  she  writes  in  her  journal :  — 

"  Amidst  all  the  depressing  circumstances  that  weigh 
upon  me,  none  sinks  deeper  than  the  failure  of  my  intel- 
lectual powers.  Nothing  I  write  pleases  me.  Whether 
I  am  just  in  this,  or  whether  it  is  the  want  of  Shelley's 
encouragement,  I  can  hardly  tell ;  but  it  seems  to  me  as 
if  the  lovely  and  sublime  objects  of  Nature  had  been  my 
best  inspirers,  and,  wanting  these,  I  am  lost.  Although 
so  utterly  miserable  at  Genoa,  yet  what  reveries  were 
mine  as  I  looked  on  the  aspect  of  the  ravine  —  the  sunny 
deep  and  its  boats  —  the  promontories  clothed  in  purple 
light  —  the  starry  heavens  —  the  fire-flies  —  the  uprising 
of  Spring!  Then  I  could  think;  and  my  imagination 
could  invent  and  combine ;  and  self  became  absorbed  in 
the  grandeur  of  the  universe  I  created.  Now,  my  mind 
is  a  blank  —  a  gulf  filled  with  formless  mist.  'The 
Last  Man !  '*  Yes,  I  may  well  describe  that  solitary 
being's  feelings  ;  I  feel  myself  as  the  last  relic  of  a  be- 
loved race,  my  companions  extinct  before  me. 

"  Mine  own  Shelley !  what  a  horror  you  had  of  re- 
turning to  this  miserable  country  !  To  be  here  without 
you,  is  to  be  doubly  exiled ;  to  be  away  from  Italy,  is  to 
lose  you  twice ! " 

On  the  following  day,  she  records  the  death  of  Byron, 
news  of  which  had  just  reached  England.  The  recol- 
lection of  his  association  with  her  husband,  and  of  his 
kindness  to  herself  after  her  great  calamity,  makes  he* 

*  She  was  at  that  time  writing  the  novel  so  called.  —  Ed. 
11 


242  SHELLEY   MEMORIALS. 

exclaim  :  —  "  God  grant  I  may  die  young !  A  new  race 
is  springing  about  me.  At  the  age  of  twenty-six,  I  am 
in  the  condition  of  an  aged  person.  All  my  old  friends 
are  gone ;  I  have  no  wish  to  form  new  ;  I  cling  to  the 
few  remaining ;  but  they  slide  away,  and  my  heart  fails 
when  I  think  by  how  few  ties  I  hold  to  the  world." 

Yet  the  sight  of  natural  beauty  could  always  soothe 
her  into  temporary  forgetfulness  of  grief,  and  at  the  same 
time  rouse  her  intellect  into  the  activity  of  genius.  On 
the  8th  June,  1824,  she  writes:  — 

"  What  a  divine  night  it  is !  A  calm  twilight  per- 
vades the  clear  sky ;  the  lamp-like  moon  is  hung  out 
in  heaven,  and  the  bright  west  retains  the  dye  of  sunset. 
If  such  weather  would  continue,  I  should  again  write ; 
the  lamp  of  thought  is  again  illuminated  in  my  heart, 
and  the  fire  descends  from  heaven  that  kindles  it.  I  feel 
my  powers  again ;  and  this  is  of  itself  happiness.  The 
eclipse  of  winter  is  passing  from  my  mind  ;  I  shall  again 
feel  the  enthusiastic  glow  of  composition — again,  as  I 
pour  forth  my  soul  upon  paper,  feel  the  winged  ideas 
arise,  and  enjoy  the  delight  of  expressing  them.  Study 
and  occupation  will  be  a  pleasure,  and  not  a  task  ;  and 
this  I  shall  owe  to  the  sight  and  companionship  of  trees 
and  meadows,  flowers  and  sunshine." 

Though  in  some  measure  secluded  from  the  world, 
Mrs.  Shelley  was  remembered  by  her  friends.  Charles 
Lamb,  in  the  course  of  the  year  1827,  addressed  to 
her  one  of  his  grotesquely  humorous  and  amusing 
letters  :  — 


MARY    SHELLEY.  243 

"Enfield,  July  26th,  1827. 
"  Dear  Mrs.  Shelley, 

"  At  the  risk  of  throwing  away  some  fine  thoughts,  I 
must  write  to  say  how  pleased  we  were  with  your  very  kind 
remembering  of  us  (who  have  unkindly  run  away  from  all  our 
friends)  before  you  go.  Perhaps  you  are  gone,  and  then  my 
tropes  are  wasted.  If  any  piece  of  better  fortune  has  lighted 
upon  you  than  you  expected,  but  less  than  we  wish  you,  we 
are  rejoiced.  We  are  here  trying  to  like  solitude,  but  have 
scarce  enough  to  justify  the  experiment  We  get  some,  how- 
ever. The  six  days  are  our  Sabbath;  the  seventh  —  why, 
Cockneys  will  come  for  a  little  fresh  air,  and  so 

"  But  by  your  month,  or  October  at  furthest,  we  hope  to 
see  Islington  ;  I,  like  a  giant  refreshed  with  the  leaving  off  of 
wine ;  and  Mary  pining  for  Mr.  Moxon's  books  and  Mr. 
Moxon's  society.     Then  we  shall  meet. 

"  I  am  busy  with  a  farce  in  two  acts,  the  incidents  tragi- 
comic. I  can  do  the  dialogue,  commey  for ;  *  but  the  damn'd 
plot  —  I  believe  I  must  omit  it  altogether.  The  scenes  come 
after  one  another  like  geese,  not  marshalling  like  cranes,  or  a 
Hyde-park  review.  The  story  is  as  simple  as  G.  D.,f  and  the 
language  plain  as  his  spouse.  The  characters  are  three 
women  to  one  man  ;  which  is  one  more  than  laid  hold  on  him 
in  the  Evangely.  I  think  that  prophecy  squinted  towards  my 
drama. 

"  I  want  some  Howard  Paine  to  sketch  a  skeleton  of  art- 
fully succeeding  scenes  through  a  whole  play ;  as  the  courses 
are  arranged  in  a  cookery-book.  I  to  find  wit,  passion,  senti- 
ment, character,  and  the  like  trifles.  To  lay  in  the  dead 
colors;  I'd  Titianesque  'em  up.    To  mark  the  channel  in  a 

*  French  —  comme  il  faut. 

t  Lamb  here  refers  to  an  excellent,  but  single-minded,  scholarly 
friend  of  his,  now  dead.  Mr.  George  Dyer,  known  as  the  author  of 
many  erudite  works.  He  was  one  of  Lamb's  stock  subjects  for  jok- 
ing, and  is  introdnced  into  the  Elia  Essays.  —  Ed. 


244  SHKLLKY    MEMORIALS. 

check  (smooth  or  furrowed,  yours  or  mine)  ;  and,  where  tears 
should  course,  I'd  draw  the  waters  down.  To  say  where  a 
joke  should  come  in,  or  a  pun  be  left  out.  To  bring  my  per- 
sonam on  and  off  like  a  Beau  Nash;  and  I'd  Frankenstein 
them  there.  To  bring  three  together  on  the  stage  at  once ; 
they  are  so  shy  with  me,  that  I  can  get  no  more  than  two, 
and  there  they  stand,  till  it  is  the  time,  without  being  the  season, 
to  withdraw  them. 

"  I  am  teaching  Emma  Latin,  to  qualify  her  for  a  superior 
governcsship,  which  we  see  no  prospect  of  her  getting.  'Tis 
like  feeding  a  child  with  chopt  hay  from  a  spoon.  Sisyphus, 
his  labors  were  as  nothing  to  it. 

u  Actives  and  passives  jostle  in  her  nonsense,  till  a  deponent 
enters,  like  Chaos,  more  to  embroil  the  fray.  Her  prepositions 
are  suppositions ;  her  conjunctions  copulative  have  no  connec- 
tion in  them;  her  concords  disagree;  her  interjections  are 
purely  English  *  Ah  ! '  and  '  Oh ! '  with  a  yawn  and  a  gape  in 
the  same  tongue  ;  and  she  herself  is  a  lazy,  blockheadly  supine. 
As  I  say  to  her,  ass  in  prcesenti  rarely  makes  a  wise  man  in 
futuro. 

"  But  I  dare  say  it  was  so  with  you  when  you  began 
Latin  —  and  a  good  while  after. 

"  Good  bye  !    Mary's  love. 

"  Yours  truly, 

»  C.  Lamb." 


It  was  in  1833  that  Mrs.  Shelley  first  went  to  reside 
at  Harrow.  She  complains  of  living  very  solitarily 
there,  though  she  was  cheered  by  seeing  her  son's 
progress  in  his  studies.  All  this  while  she  continued 
to  correspond  with  her  old  friend,  Mrs.  Gisborne ;  and 
in  a  letter  to  her,  dated  "Harrow,  June  11th,  1835," 
she  gossips  about  her  own  estimate  of  her  literary 
powers!:     She  states  that  when  she  saw  Kean  on  her 


MARY    SHELLEY.  240 

return  to  England,  she  greatly  desired  to  write  for  the 
stage,  but  that  her  father  earnestly  dissuaded  her. 
Nevertheless,  she  felt  persuaded  that  she  could  have 
written  a  good  tragedy ;  but  she  adds  that  she  could  not 
do  so  now,  as  her  feelings  are  blighted,  her  ambition 
gone,  and  her  mind  wrecked  by  loneliness. 

"  You  speak  of  women's  intellect,''  she  continues :  "  we 
can  scarcely  do  more  than  judge  by  ourselves.  I  know 
that,  however  clever  I  may  be,  there  is  in  me  a  want  of 
eagle-winged  resolution,  that  appertains  to  my  intellect 
as  well  as  my  moral  character,  and  renders  me  what  I 
am  —  one  of  broken  purposes,  failing  thoughts,  and  a 
heart  all  wounds.  My  mother  had  more  energy  of  char- 
acter ;  still,  she  had  not  sufficient  fire  of  imagination.  In 
short,  my  belief  is  —  whether  there  be  sex  in  souls  or 
not  —  that  the  sex  of  our  material  mechanism  makes  us 
quite  different  creatures  ;  better,  though  weaker,  but 
wanting  in  the  higher  grades  of  intellect.  I  am  almost 
sorry  to  send  you  this  letter  —  it  is  so  querulous  and  sad  ; 
yet,  if  I  write  with  any  effusion,  the  truth  will  creep  out, 
and  my  life  since  you  went  has  been  so  strained  by  sor- 
rows and  disappointments,  I  have  no  hope.  In  a  few 
years,  when  I  get  over  my  present  feelings,  and  live 
wholly  in  Percy,  I  shall  be  happier." 

William  Godwin  died  in  1836;  an  event  which, 
though  it  could  not  have  been  much  longer  postponed,  as 
the  philosopher  had  reached  the  age  of  eighty,  was  a 
great  grief  to  Mrs.  Shelley,  who  was  tenderly  attached 
to  her  father. 

In  the  following  year,  her  son  went  to  Cambridge,  and 


246  SHELLEY    MEMORIALS. 

in  1844,  on  the  death  of  Sir  Timothy  Shelley,  he  suc- 
ceeded to  the  title. 

But,  at  the  same  moment  that  happier  and  brighter 
prospects  seemed  to  open  to  her  view,  and  when  she  had 
made  arrangements  for  writing  the  life  of  her  husband, 
symptoms  of  illness,  of  a  threatening  character,  showed 
themselves.  From  time  to  time  they  appeared  and  sub- 
sided ;  but  gradually  her  old  energy  went,  and  she  died 
in  London  on  the  21st  of  February,  1851,  in  the  fifty- 
fourth  year  of  her  age. 

The  following  verses  on  her  death  appeared  in  the 
Leader :  — 

LINES  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  MRS.  SHELLEY. 

Another,  yet  another,  snatch' d  away, 

By  Death's  grasp,  from  among  us !     Yet  one  more 

Of  Heaven's  anointed  band,  —  a  child  of  genius, — 

A  peeress,  girt  about  with  magic  powers,  — 

That  could  at  will  evoke  from  her  wild  thought 

Spirits  unearthly,  monster-shaped,  to  strike 

Terror  within  us,  and  strange  wonderment,  — 

Renewing,  realizing,  once  again, 

With  daring  fancy,  on  her  thrilling  page, 

The  fabled  story  of  Prometheus  old. 

0  gifted  sister,  lovely  in  thyself, 
And  claiming  from  the  world  the  meed  of  love ! 
How  fondly  art  thou  link'd  within  our  breasts 
With  his  dear  memory  whose  name  thou  bar'st; 
How  doubly  lov'd  because  entwined  with  him! 

Mourn  her  not,  Earth !  her  spirit,  disenthralls, 
No  more  shall  droop  in  lonely  widowhood ; 
Its  happy  flight  is  wing'd  to  join  again 


MARY    SHELLEY.  247 

In  endless  fellowship,  'mid  brighter  spheres, 
The  husband  of  her  heart,  —  the  bright-ey'd  child 
Whom  Fate  tore  from  us  in  his  early  bloom, 
The  Poet  of  the  Soul !  whose  Orphic  song, 
Steep'd  to  its  depths  within  the  light  divine 
Of  Nature's  loveliness,  and  fraught  all  o'er 
With  struggling  yearnings  for  the  weal  of  man, 
Descended  on  each  sorrow-canker'd  life 
Like  heaven's  dews  upon  the  sunburnt  plain. 

Mourn  her  not,  Earth !  she  is  at  rest  with  him, 
The  mighty  minstrel  of  the  impassion' d  lay,  — 
The  Poet-martyr  of  a  creed  too  bright, 
Whose  lofty  hymnings  were  so  oft  attuned 
Unto  the  music  of  her  own  pure  name, 
The  theme  and  inspiration  of  his  lyre. 

Happy  departed  ones,  a  brief  farewell ! 
Till  friend  clasps  friend  upon  the  silent  shore. 


E.  W.  L. 


Edinburgh,  February  24^,  1851. 


EXTRACTS 

FROM 

MKS.  SHELLEY'S  PRIVATE   JOURNAL. 


Some  quotations  from  this  journal  have  been  made  in 
the  preceding  pages ;  but  further  extracts  are  here  ap- 
pended, for  the  sake  of  the  interest  they  possess. 

■  October  2d,  1822.  —  On  the  8th  of  July  I  finished 
my  journal.  This  is  a  curious  coincidence.  The  date 
still  remains  —  the  fatal  8th  —  a  monument  to  show  that 
all  ended  then.  And  I  begin  again  ?  Oh,  never  !  But 
several  motives  induce  me,  when  the  day  has  gone  down, 
and  all  is  silent  around  me,  steeped  in  sleep,  to  pen,  as 
occasion  wills,  my  reflections  and  feelings.  First,  I  have 
no  friend.  For  eight  years  I  communicated,  with  un- 
limited freedom,  with  one  whose  genius  far  transcending 
mine,  awakened  and  guided  my  thoughts.  I  conversed 
with  him ;  rectified  my  errors  of  judgment ;  obtained 
new  lights  from  him ;  and  my  mind  was  satisfied.  Now 
I  am  alone  —  oh,  how  alone.  The  stars  may  behold  my 
tears,  and  the  winds  drink   my  sighs ;  but  my  thoughts 


EXTRACTS    FROM    MRS.    SHELLETf'S   JOURNAL.     249 

are  a  sealed  treasure,  which  I  can  confide  to  none.  But 
can  I  express  all  I  feel  ?  Can  I  give  words  to  thoughts 
and  feelings  that  as  a  tempest,  hurry  me  along  ?  Is  this 
the  sand  that  the  ever-flowing  sea  of  thought  would  im- 
press indelibly  ?  Alas  !  I  am  alone.  No  eye  answers 
mine ;  my  voice  can  with  none  assume  its  natural  modu- 
lation. What  a  change !  Oh,  my  beloved  Shelley ! 
how  often  during  those  happy  days  —  happy,  though 
checkered  —  I  thought  how  superiorly  gifted  I  had  been 
in  being  united  to  one  to  whom  I  could  unveil  myself, 
and  who  could  understand  me  !  Well,  then,  I  am  now 
reduced  to  these  white  pages,  which  I  am  to  blot  with 
dark  imagery.  As  I  write,  let  me  think  what  he  would, 
have  said  if,  speaking  thus  to  him,  he  could  have  an- 
swered me.  Yes,  my  own  heart,  I  would  fain  know  what 
you  think  of  my  desolate  state  ;  what  you  think  I  ought 
to  do,  what  to  think.  I  guess  you  would  answer  thus  :  — 
'  Seek  to  know  your  own  heart,  and,  learning  what  it  best 
loves,  try  to  enjoy  that'  Well,  I  cast  my  eyes  around, 
and  looking  forward  to  the  bounded  prospect  in  view,  I 
ask  myself  what  pleases  me  there.  My  child ;  —  so 
many  feelings  arise  when  I  think  of  him,  that  I  turn 
aside  to  think  no  more.  Those  I  most  loved  are  gone 
forever  ;  those  who  held  the  second  rank  are  absent ;  and 
among  those  near  me  as  yet,  I  trust  to  the  disinterested 
kindness  of  one  alone.  Beneath  all  this,  my  imagination 
ever  flags.  Literary  labors,  the  improvement  of  my  mind, 
and  the  enlargement  of  my  ideas,  are  the  only  occupa- 
tions that  elevate  me  from  my  lethargy ;  all  events  seem 
to  lead  me  to  that  one  point,  and  the  courses  of  destiny 
11* 


250  EXTRACTS     FROM 

having  dragged  me  to  that  single  resting-place,  have  left 
me.  Father,  mother,  friend,  husband,  children  —  all 
made,  as  it  were,  the  team  that  conducted  me  here  ;  and 
now  all  except  you,  my  poor  boy  (and  you  are  necessary 
to  the  continuance  of  my  life),  all  are  gone,  and  I  am 
left  to  fulfil  my  task.     So  be  it ! 

"  October  6th.  —  Well,  they  are  come  ;  *  and  it  is  all 
as  I  said.  I  awoke  as  from  sleep,  and  thought  how  I 
had  vegetated  these  last  days;  for  feeling  leaves  little 
trace  on  the  memory  if  it  be,  like  mine,  unvaried.  I 
had  felt  for  and  with  myself  alone,  and  I  awake  now  to. 
take  a  part  in  life.  As  far  as  others  are  concerned,  my 
sensations  have  been  most  painful.  I  must  work  hard 
amidst  the  vexations  that  I  perceive  are  preparing  for 
me  —  to  preserve  my  peace  and  tranquillity  of  mind.  I 
must  preserve  some,  if  I  am  to  live ;  for  since  I  bear 
at  the  bottom  of  my  heart  a  fathomless  well  of  bitter 
waters,  the  workings  of  which  my  philosophy  is  ever  at 
work  to  repress,  what  will  be  my  fate  if  the  petty  vexa- 
tions of  life  are  added  to  this  sense  of  eternal  and  infinite 
misery  ? 

"  Oh,  my  child !  what  is  your  fate  to  be  ?  You  alone 
reach  me ;  you  are  the  only  chain  that  links  me  to  time ; 
but  for  you  I  should  be  free.  And  yet  I  cannot  be  des- 
tined to  live  long!  Well,  I  shall  commence  my  task, 
commemorate  the  virtues  of  the  only  creature  worth 
loving  or  living  for,  and  then,  may  be,  I  may  join  him. 

*  Leigh  Hunt  and  his  family.  —  Ed. 


mrs.  shelley's  private  journal.     251 

Moonshine  may  be  united  to  her  planet,  and  wander  no 
more,  a  sad  reflection  of  all  she  loved  on  earth: 

"  October  7th.  —  I  have  received  my  desk  to-day,  and 
have  been  reading  my  letters  to  mine  own  Shelley  dur- 
ing his  absences  at  Marlow.  What  a  scene  to  recur  to ! 
My  William,  Clara,  Allegra,  are  all  talked  of.  They 
lived  then,  they  breathed  this  air,  and  their  voices  struck 
on  my  sense;  their  feet  trod  the  earth  beside  me,  and 
their  hands  were  warm  with  blood  and  life  when  clasped 
in  mine.  Where  are  they  all  ?  This  is  too  great  an 
agony  to  be  written  about.  I  may  express  my  despair, 
but  my  thoughts  can  find  no  words. 

***** 

"I  would  endeavor  to  consider  myself  a  faint  con- 
tinuation of  his  being,  and,  as  far  as  possible,  the  revela- 
tion to  the  earth  of  what  he  was.  Yet,  to  become  this, 
I  must  change  much,  and  above  all  I  must  acquire  that 
knowledge,  and  drink  at  those  fountains  of  wisdom  and 
virtue,  from  which  he  quenched  his  thirst.  Hitherto  I 
have  done  nothing;  yet  I  have  not  been  discontented 
with  myself.  I  speak  of  the  period  of  my  residence 
here.  For,  although  unoccupied  by  those  studies  which 
I  have  marked  out  for  myself,  my  mind  has  been  so 
active,  that  its  activity,  and  not  its  indolence,  has  made 
me  neglectful.  But  now  the  society  of  others  causes 
this  perpetual  working  of  my  ideas  somewhat  to  pause  ; 
and  I  must  take  advantage  of  this  to  turn  my  mind 
towards  its  immediate  duties,  and  to  determine  with 
firmness  to  commence  the  life  I  have  planned.     You  will 


252  EXTRACTS    FKOM 

be  with  me  in  all  my  studies,  dearest  love !  Your  voice 
will  no  longer  applaud  me,  but  in  spirit  you  will  visit 
and  encourage  me ;  I  know  you  will.  What  were  I,  if 
I  did  not  believe  that  you  still  exist  ?  It  is  not  with  you 
as  with  another.  I  believe  that  we  all  live  hereafter ; 
but  you,  my  only  one,  were  a  spirit  caged,  an  elemental 
being,  enshrined  in  a  frail  image,  now  shattered.  Do 
they  not  all  with  one  voice  assert  the  same  ?  Trelawny, 
Hunt,  and  many  others ;  and  so  at  last  you  quitted  this 
painful  prison,  and  you  are  free,  my  Shelley  —  while  I, 
your  poor  chosen  one,  am  left  to  live  as  I  may. 

"  What  a  strange  life  mine  has  been !  Love,  youth, 
fear,  and  fearlessness  led  me  early  from  the  regular 
routine  of  life,  and  I  united  myself  to  this  being,  who 
not  one  of  us,  though  like  to  us,  was  pursued  by  num- 
berless miseries  and  annoyances,  in  all  which  I  shared. 
And  then  I  was  the  mother  of  beautiful  children ;  but 
these  stayed  not  by  me.  Still  he  was  there  ;  and  though, 
in  truth,  after  my  William's  death,  this  world  seemed 
only  a  quicksand,  sinking  beneath  my  feet,  yet  beside 
me  was  this  bank  of  refuge  —  so  tempest- worn  and  frail, 
that  methought  its  very  weakness  was  strength  —  and 
since  Nature  had  written  destruction  on  its  brow,  so  the 
Power  that  rules  human  affairs  had  determined,  in  spite 
of  Nature,  that  it  should  endure.  But  that  is  gone. 
His  voice  can  no  longer  be  heard ;  the  earth  no  longer 
receives  the  shadow  of  his  form ;  annihilation  has  come 
over  the  earthly  appearance  of  the  most  gentle  creature 
that  ever  yet  breathed  this  air ;  and  I  am  still  here  — 
still   thinking,  existing,  all   but   hoping.      Well,  I  will 


mrs.  shelley's  private  journal.  253 

close  my.  book ;  to-morrow  I  must  begin  this  new  life  of 


mine. 


"  October  \§th. —  How  painful  all  change  becomes  to 
one  who,  entirely  and  despotically  engrossed  by  their 
own  feelings,  leads  as  it  were  an  internal  life,  quite 
different  from  the  outward  and  apparent  one.  Whilst 
my  life  continues  its  monotonous  course  within  sterile 
banks,  an  undercurrent  disturbs  the  smooth  face  of  the 
waters,  distorts  all  objects  reflected  in  it,  and  the  mind 
is  no  longer  a  mirror  in  which  outward  events  may 
reflect  themselves  but  becomes  itself  the  painter  and 
creator.  If  this  perpetual  activity  has  power  to  vary 
with  endless  change  the  every-day  occurrences  of  a  most 
monotonous  life,  it  appears  to  be  animated  with  the 
spirit  of  tempest  and  hurricane  when  any  real  occur- 
rence diversifies  the  scene.  Thus,  to-night,  a  few  bars 
of  a  known  air  seemed  to  be  as  a  wind  to  rouse  from 
its  depths  every  deep-seated  emotion  of  my  mind.  I 
would  have  given  worlds  to  have  sat,  my  eyes  closed, 
and  listened  to  them  for  years.  The  restraint  I  was 
under  caused  these  feelings  to  vary  with  rapidity;  but 
the  words  of  the  conversation,  uninteresting  as  they 
might  be,  seemed  all  to  convey  two  senses  to  me,  and, 
touching  a  chord  within  me,  to  form  a  music  of  which 
the  speaker  was  little  aware.  I  do  not  think  that  any 
person's  voice  has  the  same  power  of  awakening  melan- 
choly in  me  as  Albe's.*  I  have  been  accustomed,  when 
hearing  it,  to  listen  and  to  speak  little;  another  voice, 
*  Lord  Byron.  —  Ed. 


254  EXTRACTS    FROM 

not  mine,  ever  replied  —  a  voice  whose  strings  are 
broken.  When  Albe  ceases  to  speak,  I  expect  to  hear 
that  other  voice,  and,  when  I  hear  another  instead,  it 
jars  strangely  with  every  association.  I  have  seen  so 
little  of  Albe  since  our  residence  in  Switzerland,  and, 
having  seen  him  there  every  day,  his  voice  —  a  peculiar 
one  —  is  engraved  on  my  memory  with  other  sounds  and 
objects  from  which  it  can  never  disunite  itself.  I  have 
heard  Hunt  in  company  and  conversation  with  many, 
when  my  own  one  was  not  there.  Trelawny,  perhaps, 
is  associated  in  my  mind  with  Edward  more  than  with 
Shelley.  Even  our  older  friends,  Peacock  and  Hogg, 
might  talk  together,  or  with  others,  and  their  voices 
would  suggest  no  change  to  me.  But,  since  incapacity 
and  timidity  always  prevented  my  mingling  in  the  nightly 
conversations  of  Diodati,  they  were,  as  it  were,  entirely 
tete-a-tete  between  my  Shelley  and  Albe ;  and  thus,  as  I 
have  said,  when  Albe  speaks  and  Shelley  does  not  an- 
swer, it  is  as  thunder  without  rain  —  the  form  of  the  sun 
without  heat  or  light  —  as  any  familiar  object  might  be 
shorn  of  its  best  attributes  ;  and  I  listen  with  an  unspeak- 
able melanchoty  that  yet  is  not  all  pain. 

"  The  above  explains  that  which  would  otherwise  be 
an  enigma,  why  Albe,  by  his  mere  presence  and  voice, 
has  the  power  of  exciting  such  deep  and  shifting  emo- 
tions within  me.  For  my  feelings  have  no  analogy  either 
with  my  opinion  of  him,  or  the  subject  of  his  conversa- 
tion. With  another  I  might  talk,  and  not  for  the  moment 
think  of  Shelley  —  at  least  not  think  of  him  with  the 
same  vividness  as  if  I  were  alone  ;  but,  when  in  company 


mrs.  shelley's  private  journal.     255 

with  Albe,  I  can  never  cease  for  a  second  to  have  Shel- 
ley in  my  heart  and  brain,  with  a  clearness  that  mocks 
reality  —  interfering,  even,  by  its  force,  with  the  functions 
of  life  —  until,  if  tears  do  not  relieve  me,  the  hysterical 
feeling,  analogous  to  that  which  the  murmur  of  the  sea 
gives  me,  presses  painfully  upon  me. 

"  Well,  for  the  first  time  for  about  a  month,  I  have 
been  in  company  with  Albe  for  two  hours,  and,  coming 
home,  I  write  this,  so  necessary  is  it  for  me  to  express 
in  words  the  force  of  my  feelings.  Shelley,  beloved  !  I 
look  at  the  stars  and  at  all  nature,  and  it  speaks  to  me 
of  you  in  the  clearest  accents.  Why  cannot  you  answer 
me,  my  own  one  ?  Is  the  instrument  so  utterly  de- 
stroyed ?  I  would  endure  ages  of  pain  to  hear  one 
tone  of  your  voice  strike  on  my  ear. 

"  November  10th.  —  I  have  made  my  first  probation  in 
writing,  and  it  has  done  me  much  good,  and  I  get  more 
calm  ;  the  stream  begins  to  take  to  its  new  channel  inas- 
much as  to  make  me  fear  change.  But  people  must 
know  little  of  me  who  think  that,  abstractedly,  I  am 
content  with  my  present  mode  of  life.  Activity  of 
spirit  is  my  sphere.  But  we  cannot  be  active  of  mind 
without  an  object ;  and  I  have  none.  I  am  allowed  to 
have  some  talent  —  that  is  sufficient,  methinks,  to  cause 
my  irreparable  misery ;  for,  if  one  has  genius,  what  a 
delight  it  is  to  associate  with  a  superior.  Mine  own 
Shelley  !  the  sun  knows  of  none  to  be  likened  to  you  — 
brave,  wise,  gentle,  noble-hearted,  full  of  learning,  toler- 
ance, and  love.     Love !  what  a  word  for  me  to  write ! 


256  EXTRACTS    FROM 

Yet,  my  miserable  heart,  permit  me  yet  to  love  —  to  see 
him  in  beauty,  to  feel  him  in  beauty,  to  be  interpene- 
trated by  the  sense  of  his  excellence ;  and  thus  to  love, 
singly,  eternally,  ardently,  and  not  fruitlessly  ;  for  I  am 
still  his  —  still  the  chosen  one  of  that  blessed  spirit  — 
still  vowed  to  him  forever  and  ever ! 

"November  Wih.  —  It  is  better  to  grieve  than  not  to 
grieve.  Grief  at  least  tells  me  that  I  was  not  always 
what  I  am  now.  I  was  once  selected  for  happiness  ;  let 
the  memory  of  that  abide  by  me.  You  pass  by  an  old 
ruined  house  in  a  desolate  lane,  and  heed  it  not.  But, 
if  you  hear  that  that  house  is  haunted  by  a  wild  and 
beautiful  spirit,  it  acquires  an  interest  and  beauty  of 
its  own. 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to  be  more  alone  again  ;  one  ought 
to  see  no  one,  or  many ;  and,  confined  to  one  society,  I 
shall  lose  all  energy  except  that  which  I  possess  from 
my  own  resources ;  and  I  must  be  alone  for  these  to  be 
put  in  activity. 

"  A  cold  heart !  Have  I  a  cold  heart  ?  God  knows  ! 
But  none  need  envy  the  icy  region  this  heart  encircles  ; 
and  at  least  the  tears  are  hot  which  the  emotions  of  this 
cold  heart  forces  me  to  shed.  A  cold  heart !  Yes,  it 
would  be  cold  enough  if  all  were  as  I  wished  it  —  cold, 
or  burning  in  that  flame  for  whose  sake  I  forgive  this, 
and  would  forgive  every  other  imputation  —  that  flame 
in  which  your  heart,  beloved,  lay  unconsumed.  My 
heart  is  very  full  to-night ! 

" 1  shall  write  his  life,  and  thus  occupy  myself  in  the 


mrs.  shelley's  private  journal.  257 

only  manner  from  which  I  can  derive  consolation.  That 
will  be  a  task  that  may  convey  some  balm.  What 
though  I  weep  ?  All  is  better  than  inaction  and  —  not 
forgetfulness  —  that  never  is  —  but  an  inactivity  of  re- 
membrance. 

"  And  you,  my  own  boy  !  I  am  about  to  begin  a 
task  which,  if  you  live,  will  be  an  invaluable  treasure 
to  you  in  after  times.  I  must  collect  my  materials,  and 
then,  in  the  commemoration  of  the  divine  virtues  of 
your  father,  I  shall  fulfil  the  only  act  of  pleasure  there 
remains  for  me,  and  be  ready  to  follow  you,  if  you 
leave  me,  my  task  being  fulfilled.  I  have  lived  ; 
rapture,  exultation,  content,  —  all  the  .varied  changes 
of  enjoyment,  —  have  been  mine.  It  is  all  gone ;  but 
still,  the  airy  paintings  of  what  it  has  gone  through 
float  by,  and  distance  shall  not  dim  them.  If  I  were 
alone,  I  had  already  begun  what  I  have  determined  to 
do ;  but  I  must  have  patience,  and  for  those  events  my 
memory  is  brass,  my  thoughts  a  never  tired  engraver. 
France  —  Poverty  —  A  few  days  of  solitude,  and  some 
uneasiness  —  A  tranquil  residence  in  a  beautiful  spot  — 
Switzerland  —  Bath  —  Marlow  —  Milan  —  The  Baths  of 
Lucerne  —  Este  —  Venice  —  Rome  —  Naples  —  Rome 
and  misery  —  Leghorn  —  Florence  —  Pisa  —  Solitude 
—  The  Williamses  —  The  Baths  —  Pisa  :  these  are  the 
heads  of  chapters,  and  each  containing  a  tale  romantic 
beyond  romance. 

I  no  longer  enjoy,  but  I  love  !  Death  cannot  deprive 
me  of  that  living  spark  which  feeds  on  all  given  it,  and 
which  isv  now  triumphant  in  sorrow.     I  love,  and  shall 


258  EXTRACTS    FROM 

enjoy   happiness   again :    I   do    not    doubt    that,  —  but 
when  ? 

"  December  §\st.  —  So,  this  year  has  come  to  an  end  ! 
Shelley,  beloved !  the  year  has  a  new  name  from  any 
thou  knewest.  When  spring  arrives,  leaves  you  never 
saw  will  shadow  the  ground,  and  flowers  you  never  be- 
held will  star  it ;  the  grass  will  be  of  another  growth, 
and  the  birds  sing  a  new  song ;  the  aged  earth  dates 
with  a  new  number. 

u  I  trust  in  a  hereafter  —  I  have  ever  done  so.  I 
know  that  that  shall  be  mine  —  even  with  thee,  glori- 
ous spirit !  who  surely  lookest  on,  pitiest,  and  lovest  thy 
Mary. 

"  I  love  thee,  my  only  one ;  I  love  nature ;  and  I 
trust  that  I  love  all  that  is  good  in  my  fellow-creatures. 
But  how  changed  I  am !  Last  year,  having  you,  I 
sought  for  the  affection  of  others,  and  loved  them  even 
when  unjust  and  cold ;  but  now  my  heart  is  truly  iced. 
If  they  treat  me  well,  I  am  grateful.  Yes,  when  that  is, 
I  call  thee  to  witness  in  how  warm  a  gush  my  blood 
flows  to  my  heart,  and  tears  to  my  eyes.  But  I  am  a 
lonely,  unloved  thing,  serious  and  absorbed.  None  care 
to  read  my  sorrow. 

"  Sometimes  I  thought  that  fortune  had  relented  to- 
wards us  —  that  your  health  would  have  improved,  and 
that  fame  and  joy  would  have  been  yours ;  for,  when 
well,  you  extracted  from  nature  alone  an  endless  de- 
light. The  various  threads  of  our  existence  seemed  to 
be  drawing  to  one  point,  and  there  to  assume  a  cheerful 
hue. 


mrs.  shelley's  private  journal.  259 

"  Again  I  think  that  your  gentle  spirit  was  too  much 
wounded  by  the  sharpnesses  of  this  world ;  that  your 
disease  was  incurable ;  and  that,  in  a  happy  time,  you 
became  the  partaker  of  cloudless  day,  ceaseless  hours, 
and  infinite  love. 

"  Thy  name  is  added  to  the  list  which  makes  the  earth 
bold  in  her  age,  and  proud  of  what  has  been.  Time, 
with  unwearied  but  slow  feet,  guides  her  to  the  goal  that 
thou  hast  reached;  and  I,  her  unhappy  child,  am  ad- 
vanced still  nearer  the  hour  when  my  earthly  dress  shall 
repose  near  thine,  beneath  the  tomb  of  Cestius. 

"February  2d,  1823.  — On  the  21st  of  January,  those 
rites  were  fulfilled.  Shelley !  my  own  beloved !  You 
rest  beneath  the  blue  sky  of  Rome ;  in  that,  at  least,  I 
am  satisfied. 

"  What  matters  it  that  they  cannot  find  the  grave  of 
my  William  ?  That  spot  is  sanctified  by  the  presence  of 
his  pure  earthly  vesture,  and  that  is  sufficient  —  at  least, 
it  must  be.  I  am  too  truly  miserable  to  dwell  on  what, 
at  another  time,  might  have  made  me  unhappy.  He  is 
beneath  the  tomb  of  Cestius.     I  see  the  spot. 

"  February  3d.  —  A  storm  has  come  across  me  —  a 
slight  circumstance  has  disturbed  the  deceitful  calm  of 
which  I  boasted.  I  thought  I  heard  my  Shelley  call  me 
—  not  my  Shelley  in  Heaven,  —  but  my  Shelley,  my 
companion  in  my  daily  tasks.  I  was  reading ;  I  heard 
a  voice  say,  'Mary!'  <  It  is  Shelley/  I  thought;  the 
revulsion  was  of  agony.     Never  more 


260  EXTRACTS    FROM 

"  But  I  have  better  hopes  and  other  feelings.  Your 
earthly  shrine  is  shattered,  but  your  spirit  ever  hovers 
over  me,  or  awaits  me,  when  I  shall  be  worthy  to  join  it. 
To  that  spirit,  which,  when  imprisoned  here,  yet  showed 
by  its  exalted  nature  its  superior  derivation * 

"  February  2Uh.  — >  Evils  throng  around  me,  my  be- 
loved, and  I  have  indeed  lost  all  in  losing  thee.  Were 
it  not  for  my  child,  this  would  rather  be  a  soothing  re- 
flection, and,  if  starvation  were  my  fate,  I  should  fulfil 
that  fate  without  a  sigh.  But  our  child  demands  all  my 
care,  now  that  you  have  left  us.  I  must  be  all  to  him : 
the  father,  death  has  deprived  him  of;  the  relations,  the 
bad  world  permits  him  not  to  have.  What  is  yet  in 
store  for  me  ?  Am  I  to  close  the  eyes  of  our  boy,  and 
then  join  you  ? 

"The  last  weeks  have  been  spent  in  quiet.  Study 
could  not  give  repose  to,  but  somewhat  regulated,  my 
thoughts.  I  said  :  i  I  lead  an  innocent  life,  and  it  may 
become  a  useful  one.  I  have  talent,  I  will  improve  that 
talent ;  and  if,  while  meditating  on  the  wisdom  of  ages, 
and  storing  my  mind  with  all  that  has  been  recorded  of 
it,  any  new  light  bursts  upon  me,  or  any  discovery  occurs 
that  may  be  useful  to  my  fellows,  then  the  balm  of  utility 
may  be  added  to  innocence.* 

"  What  is  it  that  moves  up  and  down  in  my  soul,  and 
makes  me  feel  as  if  my  intellect  could  master  all  but  my 
fate  ?     I  fear  it  is  only  youthful  ardor  —  the  yet  un- 

*  This  sentence,  like  that  at  the  end  of  the  preceding  paragraph, 
appears  to  have  been  left  incomplete.  —  Ed. 


mrs.  shelley's  private  journal.  261 

tamed  spirit,  which,  wholly  withdrawn  from  the  hopes, 
and  almost  from  the  affections,  of  life,  indulges  itself  in 
the  only  walk  free  to  it,  and,  mental  exertion  being  all 
my  thought,  except  regret,  would  make  me  place  my 
hopes  in  that.  I  am,  indeed,  become  a  recluse  in  thought 
and  act ;  and  my  mind,  turned  Heavenward,  would,  but 
for  my  only  tie,  lose  all  commune  with  what  is  around 
me.  If  I  be  proud,  yet  it  is  with  humility  that  I  am 
so.  I  am  not  vain.  My  heart  shakes  with  its  sup- 
pressed emotions,  and  I  flag  beneath  the  thoughts  that 
possess  me. 

"  Each  day,  as  I  have  taken  my  solitary  walk,  I  have 
felt  myself  exalted  with  the  idea  of  occupation,  improve- 
ment, knowledge,  and  peace.  Looking  back  to  my  past 
life  as  a  delicious  dream,  I  steeled  myself,  as  well  as  I 
could,  against  such  severe  regrets  as  should  overthrow 
my  calmness.  Once  or  twice,  pausing  in  my  walk,  I 
have  exclaimed,  in  despair  — '  Is  it  even  so  ?  '  Yet,  for 
the  most  part  resigned,  I  was  occupied  by  reflection  — 
on  those  ideas  you,  my  beloved,  planted  in  my  mind  — 
and  meditated  on  our  nature,  our  source,  and  our  desti- 
nation. To-day,  melancholy  would  invade  me,  and  I 
thought  the  peace  I  enjoyed  was  transient.  Then  that 
letter  came  to  place  its  seal  on  my  prognostications.* 
Yet  it  was  not  the  refusal,  or  the  insult  heaped  upon  me, 
that  stung  me  to  tears.    It  was  their  bitter  words  about  our 

*  Mrs.  Shelley  here  alludes  to  a  letter  from  Sir  Timothy  to  Lord 
Byron,  (who  had  written  to  him  on  the  subject,)  in  which  the  baronet 
undertook  to  support  his  infant  grandson,  if  the  mother  would  part 
with  him.  —  Ed. 


262  EXTRACTS   FROM 

boy.  Why,  I  live  only  to  keep  him  from  their  hands. 
How  dared  they  dream  that  I  held  him  not  far  more 
precious  than  all,  save  the  hope  of  again  seeing  you,  my 
lost  one.     But  for  his  smiles,  where  should  I  now  be  ? 

"  Stars,  that  shine  unclouded,  ye  cannot  tell  me  what 
will  be !  Yet  can  I  tell  you  a  part.  I  may  have  mis- 
givings, weaknesses,  and  momentary  lapses  into  unworthy 
despondency ;  but  —  save  in  devotion  towards  my  boy 
—  fortune  has  emptied  her  quiver,  and  to  all  her  future 
shafts  I  oppose  courage,  hopelessness  of  aught  on  this 
side,  with  a  firm  trust  in  what  is  beyond  the  grave. 

*  Visit  me  in  my  dreams  to-night,  my  beloved  Shel- 
ley !  kind,  living,  excellent  as  thou  wert !  and  the  event 
of  this  day  shall  be  forgotten. 

"March  19*A.  — As  I  have  until  now  recurred  to  this 
book,  to  discharge  into  it  the  overflowings  of  a  mind  too 
full  of  the  bitterest  waters  of  life,  so  will  I  to-night,  that 
I  am  calm,  put  down  some  of  my  milder  reveries ;  that, 
when  I  turn  it  once,  I  may  not  only  find  a  record  of  the 
most  painful  thoughts  that  ever  filled  a  human  heart  even 
to  distraction. 

"  I  am  beginning  seriously  to  educate  myself;  and  in 
another  place  I  have  marked  the  scope  of  this  somewhat 
tardy  education,  intellectually  considered.  In  a  moral 
point  of  view,  this  education  is  of  some  years'  standing, 
and  it  only  now  takes  the  form  of  seeking  its  food  in 
books.  I  have  long  accustomed  myself  to  the  study  of 
my  own  heart,  and  have  sought  and  found  in  its  recesses 
that  which  cannot  embody  itself  in  words  —  hardly  in 


mrs.  shelley's  private  journal.  263 

feelings.  I  have  found  strength  in  the  conception  of  its 
faculties  —  much  native  force  in  the  understanding  of 
them  —  and  what  appears  to  me  not  a  contemptible  pen- 
etration in  the  subtle  divisions  of  good  and  evil.  But  I 
have  found  less  strength  of  self-support,  of  resistance  to 
what  is  vulgarly  called  temptation ;  yet  I  think,  also,  that 
I  have  found  true  humility,  (for  surely  no  one  can  be 
less  presumptuous  than  I,)  an  ardent  love  for  the  immu- 
table laws  of  right,  much  native  goodness  of  emotion, 
and  purity  of  thought. 

"Enough,  if  every  day  I  gain  a  profounder  knowl- 
edge of  my  defects,  and  a  more  certain  method  of  turn- 
ing them  to  a  good  direction. 

"  Study  has  become  to  me  more  necessary  than  the 
air  I  breathe.  In  the  questioning  and  searching  turn  it 
gives  to  my  thoughts,  I  find  some  relief  to  wild  reverie ; 
in  the  self-satisfaction  I  feel  in  commanding  myself,  I 
find  present  solace ;  in  the  hope  that  thence  arises,  that 
I  may  become  more  worthy  of  my  Shelley,  I  find  a 
consolation  that  even  makes  me  less  wretched  in  my 
most  wretched  moments. 

"March  30th.  —  I  have  now  finished  part  of  the 
Odyssey.  I  mark  this.  I  cannot  write.  Day  after  day 
I  suffer  the  most  tremendous  agitation.  I  cannot  write, 
or  read,  or  think.  Whether  it  be  the  anxiety  for  letters 
that  shakes  a  frame  not  so  strong  as  hitherto  —  whether 
it  be  my  annoyances  here  —  whether  it  be  my  regrets, 
my  sorrow,  and  despair,  or  all  these  —  I  know  not ;  but 
I  am  a  wreck. 


264  EXTRACTS    FROM 

"May  31s£.  —  The  lanes  are  filled  with  fire-flies ;  they 
dart  between  the  trunks  of  the  trees,  and  people  the 
land  with  earth-stars.  I  walked  among  them  to-night, 
and  descended  towards  the  sea.  I  passed  by  the  ruined 
church,  and  stood  on  the  platform  that  overlooks  the 
beach.  The  black  rocks  were  stretched  out  among  the 
blue  waters,  which  dashed  with  no  impetuous  motion 
against  them.  The  dark  boats,  with  their  white  sails, 
glided  gently  over  its  surface,  and  the  star-enlightened 
promontories  closed  in  the  bay ;  below,  amid  the  crags, 
I  heard  the  monotonous,  but  harmonious,  voices  of  the 
fishermen. 

"  How  beautiful  these  shores,  and  this  sea !  Such  is 
the  scene  —  such  the  waves  within  which  my  beloved 
vanished  from  mortality ! 

"  The  time  is  drawing  near  when  I  must  quit  this 
country.  It  is  true  that,  in  the  situation  I  now  am,  Italy 
is  but  the  corpse  of  the  enchantress  that  she  was.  Be- 
sides, if  I  had  stayed  here,  the  state  of  things  would 
have  been  different.  The  idea  of  our  child's  advantage 
alone  enables  me  to  keep  fixed  in  my  resolution  to  return 
to  England.     It  is  best  for  him  —  and  I  go. 

"  Four  years  ago,  we  lost  our  darling  William  ;  four 
years  ago,  in  excessive  agony,  I  called  for  death  to  free 
me  from  all  I  felt  that  I  should  suffer  here.  I  continue 
to  live,  and  thou  art  gone.  I  leave  Italy,  and  the  few 
that  still  remain  to  me.  That  I  regret  less ;  for  our 
intercourse  is  [so]  much  checkered  with  all  of  dross 
that  this  earth  so  delights  to  blend  with  kindness  and 
sympathy,  that  I  long  for  solitude,  with  the  exercise  of 


MBS.    SHELLEY'S   PRIVATE   JOURNAL.  266 

such  affections  as  still  remain  to  me.  Away,  I  shall  be 
conscious  that  these  friends  love  me,  and  none  can  then 
gainsay  the  pure  attachment  which  chiefly  clings  to  them, 
because  they  knew  and  loved  you -^because  I  knew 
them  when  with  you  —  and  I  cannot  think  of  them  with- 
out feeling  your  spirit  beside  me. 

u  I  cannot  grieve  for  you,  beloved  Shelley !  I  grieve 
foi  thy  friends  —  for  the  world  —  for  thy  child  —  most 
for  myself,  enthroned  in  thy  love,  growing  wiser  and 
better  beneath  thy  gentle  influence,  taught  by  you  the 
highest  philosophy  —  your  pupil,  friend,  lover,  wife, 
mother  of  your  children!  The  glory  of  the  dream  is 
gone,  I  am  a  cloud  from  which  the  light  of  sunset  has 
passed.  Give  me  patience  in  the  present  struggle. 
Meum  cordium  cor  I     Good  night ! 

*  I  would  give 
All  that  I  am  to  be  as  thou  now  art ; 
But  I  am  chain' d  to  time,  and  cannot  thence  depart.'  * 
****** 

"  October  21st,  1838.  —  I  have  been  so  often  abused 
by  pretended  friends  for  my  lukewarmness  in  '  the  good 
cause/  that,  though  I  disdain  to  answer  them,  I  shall 
put  down  here  a  few  thoughts  on  this  subject.  I  am 
much  of  a  self-examiner.  Vanity  is  not  my  fault,  I 
think ;  if  it  is,  it  is  uncomfortable  vanity,  for  I  have  none 
that  teaches  me  to  be  satisfied  with  myself;  far  other- 
wise, —  and  if  I  use  the  word  disdain,  it  is  that  I  think 
my  qualities  (such  as  they  are)  not  appreciated,  from 
unworthy  causes. 

*  Adonaii.— Ed. 
12 


266  EXTRACTS   FROM 

"  In  the  first  place,  with  regard  to  '  the  good  cause '  — 
the  cause  of  the  advancement  of  freedom  and  knowl- 
edge, of  the  rights  of  women,  &c.  —  I  am  not  a  person 
of  opinions.  I  have  said  elsewhere  that  human  beings 
differ  greatly  in  this.  Some  have  a  passion  for  reform- 
ing the  world ;  others  do  not  cling  to  particular  opinions. 
That  my  parents  and  Shelley  were  of  the  former  class, 
makes  me  respect  it.  I  respect  such  when  joined  to 
real  disinterestedness,  toleration,  and  a  clear  understand- 
ing. My  accusers,  after  such  as  these,  appear  to  me 
mere  drivellers.  For  myself,  I  earnestly  desire  the  good 
and  enlightenment  of  my  fellow-creatures,  and  see  all, 
in  the  present  course,  tending  to  the  same,  and  rejoice ; 
but  I  am  not  for  violent  extremes,  which  only  bring  on 
an  injurious  reaction.  I  have  never  written  a  word  in 
disfavor  of  liberalism ;  that  I  have  not  supported  it 
openly  in  writing,  arises  from  the  following  causes,  as 
far  as  I  know :  — 

"  That  I  have  not  argumentative  powers ;  I  see  things 
pretty  clearly,  but  cannot  demonstrate  them.  Besides, 
I  feel  the  counter  arguments  too  strongly.  I  do  not  feel 
that  I  could  say  aught  to  support  the  cause  efficiently ; 
besides  that,  on  some  topics  (especially  with  regard  to 
my  own  sex),  I  am  far  from  making  up  my  mind.  I 
believe  we  are  sent  here  to  educate  ourselves,  and  that 
self-denial,  and  disappointment,  and  self-control,  are  a 
part  of  our  education ;  that  it  is  not  by  taking  away  all 
restraining  law  that  our  improvement  is  to  be  achieved  ; 
and,  though  many  things  need  great  amendment,  I  can 
by  no  means  go  so  far  as  my  friends  would  have  me. 


MRS.    SHELLEY'S    PRIVATE   JOURNAL.  267 

When  I  feel  that  I  can  say  what  will  benefit  my  fellow- 
creatures,  I  will  speak ;  not  before. 

"  Then  I  recoil  from  the  vulgar  abuse  of  the  inimical 
press ;  I  do  more  than  recoil  —  proud  and  sensitive,  I 
act  on  the  defensive  —  an  inglorious  position. 

"  To  hang  back,  as  I  do,  brings  a  penalty.  I  was 
nursed,  and  fed  with  a  love  of  glory.  To  be*  something 
great  and  good  was  the  precept  given  me  by  my  father ; 
Shelley  reiterated  it.  Alone  and  poor,  I  could  only  be 
something  by  joining  a  party ;  and  there  was  much  in 
me  —  the  woman's  love  of  looking  up  and  being  guided, 
and  being  willing  to  do  anything  if  any  one  supported 
and  brought  me  forward,  which  would  have  made  me  a 
good  partisan.  But  Shelley  died,  and  I  was  alone.  My 
father,  from  age  and  domestic  circumstances,  could  not 
'  me  /aire  valoir!  My  total  friendlessness,  my  horror  of 
pushing,  and  inability  to  put  myself  forward  unless  led, 
cherished,  and  supported, —  all  this  has  sunk  me  in  a 
state  of  loneliness  no  other  human  being  ever  before,  I 
believe,  endured — except  Robinson  Crusoe.  How  many 
tears  and  spasms  of  anguish  this  solitude  has  cost  me, 
lies  buried  in  my  memory! 

"  If  I  had  raved  and  ranted  about  what  I  did  not 
understand ;  had  I  adopted  a  set  of  opinions,  and  propa- 
gated them  with  enthusiasm;  had  I  been  careless  of 
attack,  and  eager  for  notoriety  :  then  the  party  to  which 
I  belonged  had  gathered  round  me,  and  I  had  not  been 
alone. 

"  It  has  been  the  fashion  with  these  same  friends  to 
accuse  me  of  worldliness.     There,  indeed,  in  my  own 


268  EXTRACTS    FROM 

heart  and  conscience,  I  take  a  high  ground.  I  may  dis- 
trust my  own  judgment  too  much  —  be  too  indolent  and 
too  timid ;  but  in  conduct  I  am  above  merited  blame. 

"  I  like  society ;  I  believe  all  persons  who  have  any 
talent  (who  are  in  good  health)  do.  The  soil  that  gives 
forth  nothing,  may  lie  ever  fallow ;  but  that  which  pro- 
duces —  however  humble  its  product  —  needs  cultivation, 
change  of  harvest,  refreshing  dews,  and  ripening  sun. 
Books  do  much ;  but  the  living  intercourse  is  the  vital 
heat.     Debarred  from  that,  how  have  I  pined  and  died  1 

"  My  early  friends  chose  the  position  of  enemies. 
When  I  first  discovered  that  a  trusted  friend  had  acted 
falsely  by  me,  I  was  nearly  destroyed.  My  health  was 
shaken.  I  remember  thinking,  with  a  burst  of  agonizing 
tears,  that  I  should  prefer  a  bed  of  torture  to  the  unut- 
terable anguish  a  friend's  falsehood  engendered.  There 
is  no  resentment ;  but  the  world  can  never  be  to  me  what 
it  was  before.  Trust,  and  confidence,  and  the  heart's 
sincere  devotion,  are  gone. 

"  I  sought  at  that  time  to  make  acquaintances  —  to 
divert  my  mind  from  this  anguish.  I  got  entangled  in 
various  ways  through  my  ready  sympathy  and  too  eager 
heart ;  but  I  never  crouched  to  society  —  never  sought  it 
unworthily.  If  I  have  never  written  to  vindicate  the 
Rights  of  Women,  I  have  eyer  befriended  women  when 
oppressed.  At  every  risk,  I  have  befriended  and  sup- 
ported victims  to  the  social  system ;  but  I  make  no  boast, 
for  in  truth  it  is  simple  justice  I  perform ;  and  so  I  am 
still  reviled  for  being  worldly. 

*  God  grant  a  happier  and  a  better  day  is  near  1    Percy 


mrs.  shelley's  private  journal.  269 

—  my  all  in  all  —  will,  I  trust,  by  his  excellent  under- 
standing, his  clear,  bright,  sincere  spirit  and  affectionate 
heart,  repay  me  for  sad  long  years  of  desolation.  His 
career  may  lead  me  into  the  thick  of  life,  or  only  gild  a 
quiet  home.  I  am  content  with  either,  and,  as  I  grow 
older,  I  grow  more  fearless  for  myself —  I  become  firmer 
in  my  opinions.  The  experienced,  the  suffering,  the 
thoughtful,  may  at  last  speak  unrebuked.  If  it  be  the 
will  of  God  that  I  live,  I  may  ally  my  name  yet  to  '  the 
good  cause'  —  though  I  do  not  expect  to  please  my 
accusers. 

"  Thus  have  I  put  down  my  thoughts.  I  may  have 
deceived  myself;  I  may  be  in  the  wrong ;  I  try  to  exam- 
ine myself;  and  such  as  I  have  written  appears  to  me 
the  exact  truth. 

u  Enough  of  this !  The  great  work  of  life  goes  on. 
Death  draws  near.  To  be  better  after  death  than  in  life, 
is  one's  hope  and  endeavor  —  to  be  so  through  self- 
schooling.  If  I  write  the  above,  it  is  that  those  who  love 
me  may  hereafter  know  that  I  am  not  all  to  blame,  nor 
merit  the  heavy  accusations  cast  on  me  for  not  putting 
myself  forward.  I  cannot  do  that ;  it  is  against  my  na- 
ture. As  well  cast  me  from  a  precipice,  and  rail  at  me 
for  not  flying." 


ESSAY    ON    CHRISTIANITY 


BY  SHELLEY. 


NOW  FIRST  PRINTED. 


ESSAY    ON    CHKISTIANITY. 


The  Being  who  has  influenced  in  the  most  memorable 
manner  the  opinions  and  the  fortunes  of  the  human 
species  is  Jesus  Christ.  At  this  day  his  name  is  con- 
nected with  the  devotional  feelings  of  two  hundred  mil- 
lions of  the  race  of  man.  The  institutions  of  the  most 
civilized  portion  of  the  globe  derive  their  authority  from 
the  sanction  of  his  doctrines  ;  he  is  the  hero,  the  God,  of 
our  popular  religion.  His  extraordinary  genius,  the 
wide  and  rapid  effect  of  his  unexampled  doctrines,  his 
invincible  gentleness  and  benignity,  the  devoted  love 
borne  to  him  by  his  adherents,  suggested  a  persuasion 
to  them  that  he  was  something  divine.  The  super- 
natural events  which  the  historians  of  this  wonderful 
man  subsequently  asserted  to  have  been  connected  with 
every  gradation  of  his  career,  established  the  opinion. 

His  death  is  said  to  have  been  accompanied  by  an 
accumulation  of  tremendous  prodigies.  Utter  darkness 
fell  upon  the  earth,  blotting  the  noonday  sun ;  dead 
bodies,  arising  from  their   graves,  walked   through   the 

12* 


274  ESSAY    ON    CHRISTIANITY. 

public  streets,  and  an  earthquake  shook  the  astonished 
city,  rending  the  rocks  of  the  surrounding  mountains. 
The  philosopher  may  attribute  the  application  of  these 
events  to  the  death  of  a  reformer,  or  the  events  them- 
selves to  a  visitation  of  that  universal  Pan  who 

****** 

The  thoughts  which  the  word  "  God "  suggests  to  the 
human  mind  are  susceptible  of  as  many  variations  as 
human  minds  themselves.  The  Stoic,  the  Platonist, 
and  the  Epicurean,  the  Polytheist,  the  Dualist,  and  the 
Trinitarian,  differ  infinitely  in  their  conceptions  of  its 
meaning.  They  agree  only  in  considering  it  the  most 
awful  and  most  venerable  of  names,  as  a  common  term 
devised  to  express  all  of  mystery,  or  majesty,  or  power, 
which  the  invisible  world  contains.  And  not  only  has 
every  sect  distinct  conceptions  of  the  application  of  this 
name,  but  scarcely  two  individuals  of  the  same  sect, 
who  exercise  in  any  degree  the  freedom  of  their  judg- 
ment, or  yield  themselves  with  any  candor  of  feeling 
to  the  influences  of  the  visible  world,  find  perfect  coin- 
cidence of  opinion  to  exist  between  them.  It  is  [inter- 
esting] to  inquire  in  what  acceptation  Jesus  Christ  em- 
ployed this  term. 

We  may  conceive  his  mind  to  have  been  predisposed 
on  this  subject  to  adopt  the  opinions  of  his  countrymen. 
Every  human  being  is  indebted  for  a  multitude  of  his 
sentiments  to  the  religion  of  his  early  years.  Jesus 
Christ  probably  [studied]  the  historians  of  his  country 
with  the  ardor  of  a  spirit  seeking  after  truth.  They 
were  undoubtedly  the  companions  of  his  childish  years, 


ESSAY    ON    CHRISTIANITY.  275 

the  food  and  nutriment  and  materials  of  his  youthful 
meditations.  The  sublime  dramatic  poem  entitled  Job 
had  familiarized  his  imagination  with  the  boldest  imagery- 
afforded  by  the  human  mind  and  the  material  world. 

Ecclesiastes  had  diffused  a  seriousness  and  solemnity 
over  the  frame  of  his  spirit,  glowing  with  youthful  hope, 
and  made  audible  to  his  listening  heart 

"  The  still,  sad  music  of  humanity, 
Not  harsh  or  grating,  but  of  ample  power 
To  chasten  and  subdue." 

He  had  contemplated  this  name  as  having  been  profanely 
perverted  to  the  sanctioning  of  the  most  enormous  and 
abominable  crimes.  We  can  distinctly  trace,  in  the  tissue 
of  his  doctrines  the  persuasion  that  God  is  some  uni- 
versal Being,  differing  from  man  and  the  mind  of  man. 
According  to  Jesus  Christ,  God  is  neither  the  Jupiter, 
who  sends  rain  upon  the  earth ;  nor  the  Venus,  through 
whom  all  living  things  are  produced ;  nor  the  Vulcan, 
who  presides  over  the  terrestrial  element  of  fire ;  nor  the 
Vesta,  that  preserves  the  light  which  is  enshrined  in  the 
sun  and  moon  and  stars.  He  is  neither  the  Proteus  nor 
the  Pan  of  the  material  world.  But  the  word  God, 
according  to  the  acceptation  of  Jesus  Christ,  unites  all 
the  attributes  which  these  denominations  contain,  and 
is  the  [interpoint]  and  over-ruling  Spirit  of  all  the 
energy  and  wisdom  included  within  the  circle  of  exist- 
ing things.  It  is  important  to  observe  that  the  author  of 
the  Christian  system  had  a  conception  widely  differing 
from  the  gross  imaginations  of  the  vulgar  relative  to  the 


276  ESSAY   ON    CHRISTIANITY. 

ruling  Power  of  the  universe.  He  everywhere  repre- 
sents this  Power  as  something  mysteriously  and  inimit- 
ably pervading  the  frame  of  things.  Nor  do  his  doctrines 
practically  assume  any  proposition  which  they  theoreti- 
cally deny.  They  do  not  represent  God  as  a  limitless 
and  inconceivable  mystery ;  affirming,  at  the  same 
time,  his  existence  as  a  Being   subject  to  passion  and 

capable 

***** 

"Blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart,  for  they  shall  see 
God."  Blessed  are  those  who  have  preserved  internal 
sanctity  of  soul ;  who  are  conscious  of  no  secret  deceit ; 
who  are  the  same  in  act  as  they  are  in  desire ;  who  con- 
ceal no  thought,  no  tendencies  of  thought,  from  their  own 
conscience ;  who  are  faithful  and  sincere  witnesses,  before 
the  tribunal  of  their  own  judgments,  of  all  that  passes 
within  their  mind.  Such  as  these  shall  see  God.  What ! 
after  death,  shall  their  awakened  eyes  behold  the  King  of 
Heaven  ?  Shall  they  stand  in  awe  before  the  golden 
throne  on  which  He  sits,  and  gaze  upon  the  venerable 
countenance  of  the  paternal  Monarch  ?  Is  this  the  re- 
ward of  the  virtuous  and  the  pure  ?  These  are  the  idle 
dreams  of  the  visionary  or  the  pernicious  representations 
of  impostors,  who  have  fabricated  from  the  very  mate- 
rials of  wisdom  a  cloak  for  their  own  dwarfish  or  imbecile 
conceptions. 

Jesus  Christ  has  said  no  more  than  the  most  excellent 
philosophers  have  felt  and  expressed  —  that  virtue  is  its 
own  reward.  It  is  true  that  such  an  expression  as  he 
has  used  was  prompted  by  the  energy  of  genius,  and  was 


ESSAY    ON    CHRISTIANITY.  277 

the  overflowing  enthusiasm  of  a  poet ;  but  it  is  not  the 
less  literally  true  [because]  clearly  repugnant  to  the  mis- 
taken conceptions  of  the  multitude.  God,  it  has  been 
asserted,  was  contemplated  by  Jesus  Christ,  as  every  poet 
and  every  philosopher  must  have  contemplated  that  mys- 
terious principle.  He  considered  that  venerable  word  to 
express  the  overruling  Spirit  of  the  collective  energy  of 
the  moral  and  material  world.  He  affirms,  therefore,  no 
more  than  that  a  simple,  sincere  mind  is  the  indispen- 
sable requisite  of  true  science  and  true  happiness.  He 
affirms  that  a  Being  of  pure  and  gentle  habits  will  not 
fail,  in  every  thought,  in  every  object  of  every  thought, 
to  be  aware  of  benignant  visitings  from  the  invisible  ener- 
gies by  which  he  is  surrounded. 

Whosoever  is  free  from  the  contamination  of  luxury 
and  license,  may  go  forth  to  the  fields  and  to  the  woods, 
inhaling  joyous  renovation  from  the  breath  of  Spring,  or 
catching  from  the  odors  and  sounds  of  Autumn  some 
diviner  mood  of  sweetest  sadness,  which  improves  the 
softened  heart.  Whosoever  is  no  deceiver  or  destroyer 
of  his  fellow-men  —  no  liar,  no  flatterer,  no  murderer  — 
may  walk  among  his  species,  deriving,  from  the  com- 
munion with  all  which  they  contain  of  beautiful  or  of 
majestic,  some  intercourse  with  the  Universal  God. 
Whosoever  has  maintained  with  his  own  heart  the  strict- 
est correspondence  of  confidence,  who  dares  to  examine 
and  to  estimate  every  imagination  which  suggests  itself 
to  his  mind  —  whosoever  is  that  which  he  designs  to 
become,  and  only  aspires  to  that  which  the  divinity  of  his 
own  nature  shall  consider  and  approve  —  he  has  already 
seen  God. 


278  ESSAY    ON    CHRISTIANITY. 

We  live  and  move  and  think ;  but  we  are  not  the  crea- 
tors of  our  own  origin  and  existence.  We  are  not  the 
arbiters  of  every  motion  of  our  own  complicated  nature ; 
we  are  not  the  masters  of  our  own  imaginations  and 
moods  of  mental  being.  There  is  a  Power  by  which  we 
are  surrounded,  like  the  atmosphere,  in  which  some 
motionless  lyre  is  suspended,  which  visits  with  its  breath 
our  silent  chords  at  will. 

Our  most  imperial  and  stupendous  qualities  —  those  on 
which  the  majesty  and  the  power  of  humanity  is  erected 
—  are,  relatively  to  the  inferior  portion  of  its  mechanism, 
active  and  imperial  j  but  they  are  the  passive  slaves  of 
some  higher  and  more  omnipotent  Power.  This  power  is 
God ;  and  those  who  have  seen  God  have,  in  the  period 
of  their  purer  and  more  perfect  nature,  been  harmonized 
by  their  own  will  to  so  exquisite  [a]  consentaneity  of 
power  as  to  give  forth  divinest  melody,  when  the  breath 
of  universal  being  sweeps  over  their  frame.  That  those 
who  are  pure  in  heart  shall  see  God,  and  that  virtue  is 
its  own  reward,  may  be  considered  as  equivalent  asser- 
tions. The  former  of  these  propositions  is  a  metaphor- 
ical repetition  of  the  latter.  The  advocates  of  literal 
interpretation  have  been  the  most  efficacious  enemies  of 
those  doctrines  whose  nature  they  profess  to  venerate. 
Thucydides,  in  particular,  affords  a  number  of  instances 
calculated 

Tacitus  says,  that  the  Jews  held  God  to  be  something 
eternal  and  supreme,  neither  subject  to  change  nor  to 
decay;   therefore  they  permit  no  statues  in  their  cities 


ESSAY   ON    CHRISTIANITY.  279 

or  their  temples.  The  universal  Being  can  only  be 
described  or  defined  by  negatives  which  deny  his  subjec- 
tion to  the  laws  of  all  inferior  existences.  Where  indef- 
initeness  ends,  idolatry  and  anthropomorphism  begin. 
God  is,  as  Lucan  has  expressed, 

"  Quodcunque  vides,  quodcunque  moveris 
Et  ccelum  et  virtus." 

The  doctrine  of  what  some  fanatics  have  termed  "  a  pe- 
culiar Providence  "  —  that  is,  of  some  power  beyond  and 
superior  to  that  which  ordinarily  guides  the  operations 
of  the  Universe,  interfering  to  punish  the  vicious  and  re- 
ward the  virtuous  —  is  explicitly  denied  by  Jesus  Christ. 
The  absurd  and  execrable  doctrine  of  vengeance,  in  all 
its  shapes,  seems  to  have  been  contemplated  by  this  great 
moralist  with  the  profoundest  disapprobation ;  nor  would 
he  permit  the  most  venerable  of  names  to  be  perverted 
into  a  sanction  for  the  meanest  and  most  contemptible 
propensities  incident  to  the  nature  of  man.  "  Love  your 
enemies,  bless  those  who  curse  you,  that  ye  may  be  the 
sons  of  your  Heavenly  Father,  who  makes  the  sun  to 
shine  on  the  good  and  on  the  evil,  and  the  rain  to  fall  on 
the  just  and  unjust."  How  monstrous  a  calumny  have 
not  impostors  dared  to  advance  against  the  mild  and 
gentle  author  of  this  just  sentiment,  and  against  the 
whole  tenor  of  his  doctrines  and  his  life,  overflowing 
with  benevolence  and  forbearance  and  compassion. 
They  have  represented  him  asserting  that  the  omnip- 
otent God  —  that  merciful  and  benignant  Power  who 
scatters  equally  upon  the  beautiful  earth  all  the  elements 


280  ESSAY    ON    CHRISTIANITY. 

of  security  and  happiness  —  whose  influences  are  dis- 
tributed to  all  whose  natures  admit  of  a  participation 
in  them  —  who  sends  to  the  weak  and  vicious  crea- 
tures of  his  will  all  the  benefits  which  they  are  capa- 
ble of  sharing  —  that  this  God  has  devised  a  scheme 
whereby  the  body  shall  live  after  its  apparent  dissolution, 
and  be  rendered  capable  of  indefinite  torture.  He  is 
said  to  have  compared  the  agonies  which  the  vicious  shall 
then  endure  to  the  excruciations  of  a  living  body  bound 
among  the  flames,  and  being  consumed  sinew  by  sinew, 
and  bone  by  bone. 

And  this  is  to  be  done,  not  because  it  is  supposed 
(and  the  supposition  would  be  sufficiently  detestable)  that 
the  moral  nature  of  the  sufferer  would  be  improved  by 
his  tortures  —  it  is  done  because  it  is  just  to  be  done. 
My  neighbor,  or  my  servant,  or  my  child,  has  done  me 
an  injury,  and  it  is  just  that  he  should  suffer  an  injury  in 
return.  Such  is  the  doctrine  which  Jesus  Christ  sum- 
moned his  whole  resources  of  persuasion  to  oppose. 
"  Love  your  enemy,  bless  those  who  curse  you  : "  such, 
he  says,  is  the  practice  of  God,  and  such  must  ye  imitate 
if  ye  would  be  the  children  of  God. 

Jesus  Christ  would  hardly  have  cited,  as  an  example 
of  all  that  is  gentle  and  beneficent  and  compassionate,  a 
Being  who  shall  deliberately  scheme  to  inflict  on  a  large 
portion  of  the  human  race  tortures  indescribably  intense 
and  indefinitely  protracted ;  who  shall  inflict  them,  too, 
without  any  mistake  as  to  the  true  nature  of  pain  —  with- 
out any  view  to  future  good  —  merely  because  it  is  just. 

This,  and  no  other,  is  justice  :  —  to  consider,  under  all 


ESSAY    ON    CHRISTIANITY.  281 

the  circumstances  and  consequences  of  a  particular  case, 
how  the  greatest  quantity  and  purest  quality  of  happiness 
will  ensue  from  any  action ;  [this]  is  to  be  just,  and  there 
is  no  other  justice.  The  distinction  between  justice  and 
mercy  was  first  imagined  in  the  courts  of  tyrants 

to  the  usurpation  of  their  rulers ;  mankind  re- 
ceive every  relaxation  of  their  tyranny  as  a  circumstance 
of  grace  or  favor. 

Such  was  the  clemency  of  Julius  Caesar,  who,  having 
achieved  by  a  series  of  treachery  and  bloodshed  the  ruin 
of  the  liberties  of  his  country,  receives  the  fame  of  mercy 
because,  possessing  the  power  to  slay  the  noblest  men  of 
Rome,  he  restrained  his  sanguinary  soul,  arrogating  to 
himself  as  a  merit  an  abstinence  from  actions  which,  if 
he  had  committed,  he  would  only  have  added  one  other 
atrocity  to  his  deeds.  His  assassins  understood  justice 
better.  They  saw  the  most  virtuous  and  civilized  com- 
munity of  mankind  under  the  insolent  dominion  of  one 
wicked  man,  and  they  murdered  him.  They  destroyed 
the  usurper  of  the  liberties  of  their  countrymen,  not  be- 
cause they  hated  him,  not  because  they  would  revenge 
the  wrongs  which  they  had  sustained.  Brutus,  it  is  said, 
was  his  most  familiar  friend.  Most  of  the  conspirators 
were  habituated  to  domestic  intercourse  with  the  man 
whom  they  destroyed.  It  was  in  affection,  inextinguish- 
able love  for  all  that  is  venerable  and  dear  to  the  human 
heart,  in  the  names  of  Country,  Liberty,  and  Virtue ;  it 
was  in  a  serious  and  solemn  and  reluctant  mood,  that 
these  holy  patriots  murdered  their  father  and  their  friend. 
They  would  have  spared  his  violent  death,  if  he  could 


282  ESSAY    ON    CHRISTIANITY 

have  deposited  the  rights  which  he  had  assumed.  His 
own  selfish  and  narrow  nature  necessitated  the  sacrifices 
they  made.  They  required  that  he  should  change  all 
those  habits  which  debauchery  and  bloodshed  had  twined 
around  the  fibres  of  his  inmost  frame  of  thought ;  that  he 
should  participate  with  them  and  with  his  country  those 
privileges  which,  having  corrupted  by  assuming  to  himself, 
he  would  no  longer  value.  They  would  have  sacrificed  their 
Eves  if  they  could  have  made  him  worthy  of  the  sacrifice. 
Such  are  the  feelings  which  Jesus  Christ  asserts  to  be- 
long to  the  ruling  Power  of  the  world.  He  desireth  not 
the  death  of  a  sinner ;  he  makes  the  sun  to  shine  upon 
the  just  and  unjust 

The  nature  of  a  narrow  and  malevolent  spirit  is  so 
essentially  incompatible  with  happiness  as  to  render  it 
inaccessible  to  the  influences  of  the  benignant  God.  All 
that  his  own  perverse  propensities  will  permit  him  to  re- 
ceive, that  God  abundantly  pours  forth  upon  him.  If 
there  is  the  slightest  overbalance  of  happiness,  which  can 
be  allotted  to  the  most  atrocious  offender,  consistently 
with  the  nature  of  things,  that  is  rigidly  made  his  portion 
by  the  ever-watchful  Power  of  God.  In  every  case,  the 
human  mind  enjoys  the  utmost  pleasure  which  it  is  capa- 
ble of  enjoying.  God  is  represented  by  Jesus  Christ  as 
the  Power  from  which,  and  through  which,  the  streams 
of  all  that  is  excellent  and  delightful  flow ;  the  Power 
which  models,  as  they  pass,  all  the  elements  of  this  mixed 
universe  to  the  purest  and  most  perfect  shape  which  it 
belongs  to  their  nature  to  assume.  Jesus  Christ  attributes 
to  this  Power  the  faculty  of  Will.     How  far  such  a  doc- 


ESSAT    ON    CHRISTIANITY. 

trine,  in  its  ordinary  sense,  may  be  philosophically  true, 
or  how  far  Jesus  Christ  intentionally  availed  himself  of 
a  metaphor  easily  understood,  is  foreign  to  the  subject  to 
consider.  This  much  is  certain,  that  Jesus  Christ  repre- 
sents God  as  the  fountain  of  all  goodness,  the  eternal  ene- 
my of  pain  and  evil,  the  uniform  and  unchanging  motive 
of  the  salutary  operations  of  the  material  world.  The 
supposition  that  this  cause  is  excited  to  action  by  some 
principle  analogous  to  the  human  will,  adds  weight  to  the 
persuasion  that  it  is  foreign  to  its  beneficent  nature  to  in- 
flict the  slightest  pain.  According  to  Jesus  Christ,  and 
according  to  the  indisputable  facts  of  the  case,  some  evil 
spirit  has  dominion  in  this  imperfect  world.  But  there 
will  come  a  time  when  the  human  mind  shall  be  visited 
exclusively  by  the  influences  of  the  benignant  Power. 
Men  shall  die,  and  their  bodies  shall  rot  under  the  ground ; 
all  the  organs  through  which  their  knowledge  and  their 
feelings  have  flowed,  or  in  which  they  have  originated, 
shall  assume  other  forms,  and  become  ministrant  to  pur- 
poses the  most  foreign  from  their  former  tendencies. 
There  is  a  time  when  we  shall  neither  be  heard  or  be 
seen  by  the  multitude  of  beings  like  ourselves  by  whom 
we  have  been  so  long  surrounded.  They  shall  go  to 
graves ;  where  then  ? 

It  appears  that  we  moulder  to  a  heap  of  senseless 
dust ;  to  a  few  worms,  that  arise  and  perish,  like  our- 
selves. Jesus  Christ  asserts  that  these  appearances  are 
fallacious,  and  that  a  gloomy  and  cold  imagination  alone 
suggests  the  conception  that  thought  can  cease  to  be. 
Another  and  a  more  extensive  state  of  being,  rather  than 


284  ESSAY    ON    CHRISTIANITY. 

the  complete  extinction  of  being,  will  follow  from  that 
mysterious  change  which  we  call  Death.  There  shall  be 
no  misery,  no  pain,  no  fear.  The  empire  of  evil  spirits 
extends  not  beyond  the  boundaries  of  the  grave.  The 
unobscured  irradiations  from  the  fountain  fire  of  all  good- 
ness shall  reveal  all  that  is  mysterious  and  unintelligible, 
until  the  mutual  communications  of  knowledge  and  of 
happiness,  throughout  all  thinking  natures,  constitute  a 
harmony  of  good  that  ever  varies  and  never  ends. 

This  is  Heaven,  when  pain  and  evil  cease,  and  when 
the  benignant  principle,  untrammelled  and  uncontrolled, 
visits,  in  the  fulness  of  its  power,  the  universal  frame  of 
things.  Human  life,  with  all  its  unreal  ills  and  transitory 
hopes,  is  as  a  dream,  which  departs  before  the  dawn, 
leaving  no  trace  of  its  evanescent  hues.  All  that  it 
contains  of  pure  or  of  divine,  visits  the  passive  mind  in 
some  serenest  mood.  Most  holy  are  the  feelings  through 
which  our  fellow-beings  are  rendered  dear  and  [venera- 
ble] to  the  heart  The  remembrance  of  their  sweetness, 
and  the  completion  of  the  hopes  which  they  [excite], 
constitute,  when  we  awaken  from  the  sleep  of  life,  the 
fulfilment  of  the  prophecies  of  its  most  majestic  and  beau- 
tiful visions. 

We  die,  says  Jesus  Christ ;  and  when  we  awaken  from 
the  languor  of  disease,  the  glories  and  the  happiness  of 
Paradise  are  around  us.  All  evil  and  pain  have  ceased 
forever.  Our  happiness,  also,  corresponds  with,  and  is 
adapted  to,  the  nature  of  what  is  most  excellent  in  our 
being.  We  see  God,  and  we  see  that  he  is  good.  How 
delightful  a  picture,  even  if  it  be  not  true !     How  magnif- 


ESSAY   ON    CHRISTIANITY.  285 

icent  is  the  conception  which  this  bold  theory  suggests 
to  the  contemplation,  even  if  it  be  no  more  than  the 
imagination  of  some  sublimest  and  most  holy  poet,  who, 
impressed  with  the  loveliness  and  majesty  of  his  own 
nature,  is  impatient  and  discontented  with  the  narrow 
limits  which  this  imperfect  life  and  the  dark  grave  have 
assigned  forever  as  his  melancholy  potion.  It  is  not  to 
be  believed  that  Hell,  or  punishment,  was  the  conception 
of  this  daring  mind.  It  is  not  to  be  believed  that  the 
most  prominent  group  of  this  picture,  which  is  framed  so 
heart-moving  and  lovely  —  the  accomplishment  of  all  hu- 
man hope,  the  extinction  of  all  morbid  fear  and  anguish 
—  would  consist  of  millions  of  sensitive  beings,  enduring, 
in  every  variety  of  torture  which  Omniscient  vengeance 
could  invent,  immortal  agony. 

Jesus  Christ  opposed,  with  earnest  eloquence,  the  panic 
fears  and  hateful  superstitions  which  have  enslaved  man- 
kind for  ages.  Nations  had  risen  against  nations,  em- 
ploying the  subtlest  devices  of  mechanism  and  mind  to 
waste,  and  excruciate,  and  overthrow.  The  great  com- 
munity  of  mankind  had  been  subdivided  into  ten  thou- 
sand communities,  each  organized  for  the  ruin  of  the 
other.  Wheel  within  wheel,  the  vast  machine  was  in- 
stinct with  the  restless  spirit  of  desolation.  Pain  had 
been  inflicted,  therefore  pain  should  be  inflicted  in  return. 
Retaliation  of  injuries  is  the  only  remedy  which  can  be 
applied  to  violence,  because  it  teaches  the  injurer  the 
true  nature  of  his  own  conduct,  and  operates  as  a  warn- 
ing against  its  repetition.  Nor  must  the  same  measure 
of  calamity  be  returned  as  was  received.     If  a  man  bor- 


286  ESSAY    ON    CHRISTIANITY. 

rows  a  certain  sum  from  me,  he  is  bound  to  repay  that 
sum.  Shall  no  more  be  required  of  the  enemy,  who 
destroys  my  reputation,  or  ravages  my  fields  ?  It  is  just 
that  he  should  suffer  ten  times  the  loss  which  he  has  in- 
flicted, that  the  legitimate  consequences  of  his  deed  may 
never  be  obliterated  from  his  remembrance,  and  that 
others  may  clearly  discern  and  feel  the  danger  of  in- 
vading the  peace  of  human  society.  Such  reasonings, 
and  the  impetuous  feelings  arising  from  them,  have 
armed  nation  against  nation,  family  against  family,  man 
against  man. 

An  Athenian  soldier,  in  the  Ionian  army  which  had 
assembled  for  the  purpose  of  vindicating  the  liberty  of 
the  Asiatic  Greeks,  accidentally  set  fire  to  Sardis.  The 
city,  being  composed  of  combustible  materials,  was  burned 
to  the  ground.  The  Persians  believed  that  this  circum- 
stance of  aggression  made  it  their  duty  to  retaliate  on 
Athens.  They  assembled  successive  expeditions  on  the 
most  extensive  scale.  Every  nation  of  the  East  was 
united,  to  ruin  the  Grecian  States.  Athens  was  burned 
to  the  ground,  the  whole  territory  laid  waste,  and  every 
living  thing  which  it  contained  [destroyed].  After  suf- 
fering and  inflicting  incalculable  mischiefs,  they  desisted 
from  their  purpose  only  when  they  became  impotent  to 
effect  it.  The  desire  of  revenge,  for  the  aggression  of 
Persia,  outlived,  among  the  Greeks,  that  love  of  liberty, 
which  had  been  their  most  glorious  distinction  among 
the  nations  of  mankind,  and  Alexander  became  the  in- 
strument of  its  completion.  The  mischiefs  attendant  on 
this  consummation   of  fruitless   ruin   are   too  manifold 


ESSAY    ON    CHRISTIANITY.  287 

and  too  tremendous  to  be  related.  If  all  the  thought, 
which  had  been  expended  on  the  construction  of  engines 
of  agony  and  death  —  the  modes  of  aggression  and  de- 
fence, the  raising  of  armies,  and  the  acquirement  of  those 
arts  of  tyranny  and  falsehood  without  which  mixed 
multitudes  could  neither  be  led  nor  governed  —  had 
been  employed  to  promote  the  true  welfare  and  extend 
the  real  empire  of  man,  how  different  would  have  been 
the  present  situation  of  human  society !  how  different 
the  state  of  knowledge  in  physical  and  moral  science, 
upon  which  the  power  and  happiness  of  mankind  es- 
sentially depend!  What  nation  has  the  example,  of 
the  desolation  of  Attica  by  Mardonius  and  Xerxes,  or 
the  extinction  of  the  Persian  empire  by  Alexander  of 
Macedon,  restrained  from  outrage  ?  Was  not  the  pre- 
text of  this  latter  system  of  spoliation  derived  imme- 
diately from  the  former  ?  Had  revenge,  in  this  instance, 
any  other  effect  than  to  increase,  instead  of  diminish- 
ing, the  mass  of  malice  and  evil  already  existing  in  the 
world? 

The  emptiness  and  folly  of  retaliation  are  apparent 
from  every  example  which  can  be  brought  forward. 
Not  only  Jesus  Christ,  but  the  most  eminent  professors 
of  every  sect  of  philosophy,  have  reasoned  against  this 
futile  superstition.  Legislation  is,  in  one  point  of  view, 
to  be  considered  as  an  attempt  to  provide  against  the 
excesses  of  this  deplorable  mistake.  It  professes  to 
assign  the  penalty  of  all  private  injuries,  and  denies  to 
individuals  the  right  of  vindicating  their  proper  cause. 
This  end  is  certainly  not  attained  without  «ome  accom- 


288  ESSAY    ON    CHRISTIANITY. 

modation  to  the  propensities  which  it  desires  to  destroy. 
Still,  it  recognizes  no  principle  but  the  production  of 
the  greatest  eventual  good  with  the  least  immediate 
injury;  and  to  regard  the  torture,  or  the  death  of  any 
human  being,  as  unjust,  of  whatever  mischief  he  may 
have  been  the  author,  so  that  the  result  shall  not  more 
than  compensate  for  the  immediate  pain. 

Mankind,  transmitting  from  generation  to  generation 
the  legacy  of  accumulated  vengeances,  and  pursuing  with 
the  feelings  of  duty  the  misery  of  their  fellow-beings, 
have  not  failed  to  attribute  to  the  Universal  Cause  a 
character  analogous  with  their  own.  The  image  of  this 
invisible,  mysterious  Being,  is  more  or  less  excellent 
and  perfect  —  resembles  more  or  less  its  original  —  in 
proportion  to  the  perfection  of  the  mind  on  which  it 
is  impressed.  Thus,  that  nation  which  has  arrived  at 
the  highest  step  in  the  scale  of  moral  progression  will 
believe  most  purely  in  that  God,  the  knowledge  of  whose 
real  attributes  is  considered  as  the  firmest  basis  of  the 
true  religion.  The  reason  of  the  belief  of  each  indi- 
vidual, also,  will  be  so  far  regulated  by  his  conceptions  of 
what  is  good.  Thus,  the  conceptions  which  any  nation 
or  individual  entertains  of  the  God  of  its  popular  wor- 
ship may  be  inferred  from  their  own  actions  and  opin- 
ions, which  are  the  subjects  of  their  approbation  among 
their  fellow-men.  Jesus  Christ  instructed  his  disciples  to 
be  perfect,  as  their  Father  in  Heaven  is  perfect,  declar- 
ing at  the  same  time  his  belief  that  human  perfection 
requires  the  refraining  from  revenge  and  retribution  in 
any  of  its  various  shapes. 


ESSAY    ON   CHRISTIANITY.  289 

The  perfection  of  the  human  and  the  divine  character 
are  thus  asserted  to  be  the  same.  Man,  by  resembling 
God,  fulfils  most  accurately  the  tendencies  of  his  nature ; 
and  God  comprehends  within  himself  all  that  constitutes 
human  perfection.  Thus,  God  is  a  model  through  which 
the  excellence  of  man  is  to  be  estimated,  whilst  the  ab- 
stract perfection  of  the  human  character  is  the  type  of 
the  actual  perfection  of  the  divine.  It  is  not  to  be 
believed  that  a  person  of  such  comprehensive  views  as 
Jesus  Christ  could  have  fallen  into  so  manifest  a  contra- 
diction as  to  assert  that  men  would  be  tortured  after  death 
by  that  Being  whose  character  is  held  up  as  a  model  to 
human  kind,  because  he  is  incapable  of  malevolence  and 
revenge.  All  the  arguments  which  have  been  brought 
forward  to  justify  retribution  fail,  when  retribution  is 
destined  neither  to  operate  as  an  example  to  other  agents 
nor  to  the  offender  himself.  How  feeble  such  reasoning 
is  to  be  considered  has  been  already  shown  ;  but  it  is 
the  character  of  an  evil  Daemon  to  consign  the  beings 
whom  he  has  endowed  with  sensation  to  unprofitable 
anguish.  The  peculiar  circumstances  attendant  on  the 
conception  of  God  casting  sinners  to  burn  in  Hell  for- 
ever, combine  to  render  that  conception  the  most  perfect 
specimen  of  the  greatest  imaginable  crime.  Jesus  Christ 
represented  God  as  the  principle  of  all  good,  the  source 
of  all  happiness,  the  wise  and  benevolent  Creator  and 
Preserver  of  all  living  things.  But  the  interpreters  of 
his  doctrines  have  confounded  the  good  and  the  evil 
principle.  They  observed  the  emanations  of  their  uni- 
versal natures  to  be  inextricably  entangled  in  the  world, 

13 


290  ESSAY    ON    CHBISTIAKITT. 

and,  trembling  before  the  power  of  the  cause  of  all 
things,  addressed  to  it  such  flattery  as  is  acceptable  to 
the  ministers  of  human  tyranny,  attributing  love  and 
wisdom  to  those  energies  which  they  felt  to  be  exerted 
indifferently  for  the  purposes  of  benefit  and  calamity. 

Jesus  Christ  expressly  asserts  that  distinction  between 
the  good  and  evil  principle  which  it  has  been  the  prac- 
tice of  all  theologians  to  confound.  How  far  his  doc- 
trines, or  their  interpretation,  may  be  true,  it  would 
scarcely  have  been  worth  while  to  inquire,  if  the  one 
did  not  afford  an  example  and  an  incentive  to  the  at- 
tainment of  true  virtue,  whilst  the  other  holds  out  a 
sanction  and  apology  for  every  species  of  mean  and  cruel 
vice. 

It  cannot  be   precisely   ascertained   in   what  degree 
Jesus  Christ  accommodated  his  doctrines  to  the  opinions 
of  his  auditors;  or  in  what  degree  he  really  said  all 
that  he  is  related  to  have  said.     He  has  left  no  written 
record  of  himself,  and  we  are  compelled  to  judge  from 
the  imperfect  and  obscure   information  which  his  biog- 
raphers   (persons   certainly   of  very   undisciplined  Tind 
undiscriminating  minds)   have   transmitted  to  posterity. 
These  writers  (our  only  guides)   impute  sentiments   to 
Jesus  Christ  which  flatly  contradict  each  other.     They 
represent  him  as  narrow,  superstitious,  and  exquisitely 
vindictive   and   malicious.      They   insert,   in   the   midst 
of  a  strain  of  impassioned  eloquence  or  sagest  exhor- 
tation, a  sentiment  only  remarkable  for  its  naked  and 
drivelling   folly.     But   it   is  not  difficult   to  distinguish 
the  inventions  by  which  these  historians  have  filled  up 


ESSAY    ON    CHRISTIANITY.  291 

the  interstices  of  tradition,  op  corrupted  the  simplicity 
of  truth  from  the  real  character  of  their  rude  amaze- 
ment. They  have  left  sufficiently  clear  indications  of 
the  genuine  character  of  Jesus  Christ  to  rescue  it  for- 
ever from  the  imputations  cast  upon  it  by  their  ignorance 
and  fanaticism.  We  discover  that  he  is  the  enemy  of 
oppression  and  of  falsehood ;  that  he  is  the  advocate 
of  equal  justice ;  that  he  is  neither  disposed  to  sanction 
bloodshed  or  deceit,  under  whatsoever  pretences  their 
practice  may  be  vindicated.  We  discover  that  he  was 
a  man  of  meek  and  majestic  demeanor,  calm  in  danger ; 
of  natural  and  simple  thought  and  habits;  beloved  to 
adoration  by  his  adherents ;  unmoved,  solemn,  and  se- 
vere. 

It  is  utterly  incredible  that  this  man  said,  that  if  you 
hate  your  enemy  you  would  find  it  to  your  account  to 
return  him  good  for  evil;  since,  by  such  a  temporary 
oblivion  of  vengeance,  you  would  heap  coals  of  fire  on 
his  head.  Where  such  contradictions  occur,  a  favora- 
ble construction  is  warranted  by  the  general  innocence 
of  manners  and  comprehensiveness  of  views  which  he  is 
represented  to  possess.  The  rule  of  criticism  to  be 
adopted  in  judging  of  the  life,  actions,  and  words  of  a 
man  who  has  acted  any  conspicuous  part  in  the  revolu- 
tions of  the  world,  should  not  be  narrow.  We  ought  to 
form  a  general  image  of  his  character  and  of  his  doc- 
trines, and  refer  to  this  whole  the  distinct  portions  of 
actions  and  speech  by  which  they  are  diversified.  It  is 
not  here  asserted  that  no  contradictions  are  to  be  admit- 
ted to  have  taken  place  in  the  system  of  Jesus  Christ 


292  ESSAY   ON    CHRISTIANITY. 

between  doctrines  promulgated  in  different  states  of  feel- 
ing or  information,  or  even  such  as  are  implied  in  the 
enunciation  of  a  scheme  of  thought,  various  and  obscure 
through  its  immensity  and  depth.  It  is  not  asserted 
that  no  degree  of  human  indignation  ever  hurried  him, 
beyond  the  limits  which  his  calmer  mood  had  placed,  to 
disapprobation  against  vice  and  folly.  Those  deviations 
from  the  history  of  his  life  are  alone  to  be  vindicated 
which  represent  his  own  essential  character  in  contra- 
diction with  itself. 

Every  human  mind  has  what  Bacon  calls  its  "  idola 
speeds  "  —  peculiar  images  which  reside  in  the  inner  cave 
of  thought.  These  constitute  the  essential  and  distinc- 
tive character  of  every  human  being;  to  which  every 
action  and  every  word  have  intimate  relation  ;  and  by 
which,  in  depicting  a  character,  the  genuineness  and 
meaning  of  these  words  and  actions  are  to  be  deter- 
mined. Every  fanatic  or  enemy  of  virtue  is  not  at 
liberty  to  misrepresent  the  greatest  geniuses  and  most 
heroic  defenders  of  all  that  is  valuable  in  this  mortal 
world.  History,  to  gain  any  credit,  must  contain  some 
truth,  and  that  truth  shall  thus  be  made  a  sufficient  indi- 
cation of  prejudice  and  deceit. 

With  respect  to  the  miracles  which  these  biographers 
have  related,  I  have  already  declined  to  enter  into  any 
discussion  on  their  nature  or  their  existence.  The  sup- 
position of  their  falsehood  or  their  truth  would  modify 
in  no  degree  the  hues  of  the  picture  which  is  attempted 
to  be  delineated.  To  judge  truly  of  the  moral  and  phil- 
osophical character  of  Socrates,  it  is  not  necessary  to 


ESSAY    ON    CHRISTIANITY.  293 

determine  the  question  of  the  familiar  Spirit  which  [it] 
is  supposed  that  he  believed  to  attend  on  him.  The 
power  of  the  human  mind,  relatively  to  intercourse  with, 
or  dominion  over,  the  invisible  world,  is  doubtless  an 
interesting  theme  of  discussion ;  but  the  connection  of 
the  instance  of  Jesus  Christ  with  the  established  religion 
of  the  country  in  which  I  write,  renders  it  dangerous  to 
subject  one's  self  to  the  imputation  of  introducing  new 
Gods  or  abolishing  old  ones ;  nor  is  the  duty  of  mutual 
forbearance  sufficiently  understood  to  render  it  certain 
that  the  metaphysician  and  the  moralist,  even  though  he 
carefully  sacrifice  a  cock  to  Esculapius,  may  not  receive 
something  analogous  to  the  bowl  of  hemlock  for  the 
reward  of  his  labors.  Much,  however,  of  what  his 
[Christ's]  biographers  have  asserted,  is  not  to  be  rejected 
merely  because  inferences,  inconsistent  with  the  general 
spirit  of  his  system,  are  to  be  adduced  from  its  admission. 
Jesus  Christ  did  what  every  other  reformer  who  has 
produced  any  considerable  effect  upon  the  world  has 
done.  He  accommodated  his  doctrines  to  the  preposses- 
sions of  those  whom  he  addressed.  He  used  a  language 
for  this  view  sufficiently  familiar  to  our  comprehensions. 
He  said,  —  However  new  or  strange  my  doctrines  may 
appear  to  you,  they  are  in  fact  only  the  restoration  and 
reestablishment  of  those  original  institutions  and  ancient 
customs  of  your  own  law  and  religion.  The  constitu- 
tions of  your  faith  and  policy,  although  perfect  in  their 
origin,  have  become  corrupt  and  altered,  and  have  fallen 
into  decay.  I  profess  to  restore  them  to  their  pristine 
authority  and  splendor.     "Think  not  that  I  am  come 


294  ESSAY    ON    CHRISTIANITY. 

to  destroy  the  Law  and  the  Prophets.  I  am  come  not 
to  destroy,  but  to  fulfil.  Till  heaven  and  earth  pass 
away,  one  jot  or  one  tittle  shall  in  nowise  pass  away 
from  the  Law,  till  all  be  fulfilled."  Thus,  like  a  skilful 
orator  (see  Cicero,  De  Orator  e),  he  secures  the  prejudices 
of  his  auditors,  and  induces  them,  by  his  professions  of 
sympathy  with  their  feelings,  to  enter  with  a  willing 
mind  into  the  exposition  of  his  own.  The  art  of  per- 
suasion differs  from  that  of  reasoning ;  and  it  is  of  no 
small  moment,  to  the  success  even  of  a  true  cause,  that 
the  judges  who  are  to  determine  on  its  merits  should  be 
free  from  those  national  and  religious  predilections  which 
render  the  multitude  both  deaf  and  blind. 

Let  not  this  practice  be  considered  as  an  unworthy 
artifice.  It  were  best  for  the  cause  of  reason  that  man- 
kind should  acknowledge  no  authority  but  its  own ;  but 
it  is  useful  to  a  certain  extent,  that  they  should  not  con- 
sider those  institutions  which  they  have  been  habituated 
to  reverence  as  opposing  an  obstacle  to  its  admission. 
All  reformers  have  been  compelled  to  practice  this  mis- 
representation of  their  own  true  feelings  and  opinions. 
It  is  deeply  to  be  lamented  that  a  word  should  ever  issue 
from  human  lips  which  contains  the  minutest  alloy  of 
dissimulation,  or  simulation,  or  hypocrisy,  or  exaggera- 
tion, or  anything  but  the  precise  and  rigid  image  which 
is  present  to  the  mind,  and  which  ought  to  dictate  the  ex- 
pression. But  the  practice  of  utter  sincerity  towards 
other  men  would  avail  to  no  good  end,  if  they  were  in- 
capable of  practising  it  towards  their  own  minds.  In 
fact,  truth  cannot  be  communicated  until  it  is  perceived. 


ESSAY    ON    CHRISTIANITY.  295 

The  interests,  therefore,  of  truth  require  that  an  orator 
should,  as  far  as  possible,  produce  in  his  hearers  that  state 
of  mind  on  which  alone  his  exhortations  could  fairly  be 
contemplated  and  examined. 

Having  produced  this  favorable  disposition  of  mind, 
Jesus  Christ  proceeds  to  qualify,  and  finally  to  abrogate, 
the  system  of  the  Jewish  law.  He  descants  upon  its  in- 
sufficiency as  a  code  of  moral  conduct,  which  it  professed 
to  be,  and  absolutely  selects  the  law  of  retaliation  as  an 
instance  of  the  absurdity  and  immorality  of  its  institu- 
tions. The  conclusion  of  the  speech  is  in  a  strain  of  the 
most  daring  and  most  impassioned  speculation.  He  seems 
emboldened  by  the  success  of  his  exculpation  to  the  mul- 
titude, to  declare  in  public  the  utmost  singularity  of  his 
faith.  He  tramples  upon  all  received  opinions,  on  all  the 
cherished  luxuries  and  superstitions  of  mankind.  He 
bids  them  cast  aside  the  claims  of  custom  and  blind  faith, 
by  which  they  have  been  encompassed  from  the  very  cra- 
dle of  their  being,  and  receive  the  imitator  and  minister 
of  the  Universal  God. 

EQUALITY    OF   MANKIND. 

"  The  spirit  of  the  Lord  is  upon  me,  because  he  hath 
chosen  me  to  preach  the  gospel  to  the  poor  ;  He  hath  sent 
me  to  heal  the  broken-hearted,  to  preach  deliverance  to 
the  captives,  and  recovery  of  sight  to  the  blind,  and  to  set 
at  liberty  them  that  are  bruised."  (Luke,  ch.  iv.,  v.  18.) 
This  is  an  enunciation  of  all  that  Plato  and  Diogenes 
have  speculated  upon  the  equality  of  mankind.     They 


296  ESSAY    ON    CHRISTIANITY. 

paw  that  the  great  majority  of  the  human  species  were 
reduced  to  the  situation  of  squalid  ignorance  and  moral 
imbecility,  for  the  purpose  of  purveying  for  the  luxury  of 
a  few,  and  contributing  to  the  satisfaction  of  their  thirst 
for  power.     Too  mean-spirited  and  too  feeble  in  resolve 
to  attempt  the  conquest  of  their  own  evil  passions,  and 
of  the  difficulties  of  the  material  world,  men  sought  do- 
minion over  their  fellow-men,  as  an  easy  method  to  gain 
that  apparent  majesty  and  power  which  the  instinct  of 
their  nature  requires.     Plato  wrote  the  scheme  of  a  re- 
public, in  which  law  should  watch  over  the  equal  distri- 
bution of  the  external  instruments  of  unequal  power  — 
honors,  property,  &c.     Diogenes  devised  a  nobler  and  a 
more  worthy  system '  of  opposition  to  the  system  of  the 
slave  and  tyrant.     He  said  :  u  It  is  in  the  power  of  each 
individual  to  level  the  inequality  which  is  the  topic  of  the 
complaint  of  mankind.     Let  him  be  aware  of  his  own 
worth,  and  the  station  which  he  occupies  in  the  scale  of 
moral  beings.     Diamonds  and  gold,  palaces  and  sceptres, 
derive  their  value  from  the  opinion  of  mankind.     The 
only  sumptuary  law  which  can  be  imposed  on  the  use  and 
fabrication  of  these  instruments  of  mischief  and  deceit, 
these  symbols  of  successful  injustice,  is  the  law  of  opin- 
ion.    Every  man  possesses  the  power  in  this  respect,  to 
legislate  for  himself.     Let  him  be  well  aware  of  his  own 
worth  and  moral  dignity.     Let  him  yield  in  meek  rever- 
ence to   any  wiser  or  worthier  than  he,  so  long  as  he 
accords  no  veneration  to  the  splendor  of  his  apparel,  the 
luxury  of  his  food,   the  multitude  of   his  flatterers  and 
slaves.     It  is  because,  mankind,  ye  value  and  seek  the 


ESSAY    ON    CHRISTIANITY.  297 

empty  pageantry  of  wealth  and  social  power,  that  ye  are 
enslaved  to  its  possessions.  Decrease  your  physical 
wants ;  learn  to  live,  so  far  as  nourishment  and  shelter 
are  concerned,  like  the  beast  of  the  forest  and  the  birds 
of  the  air ;  ye  will  need  not  to  complain,  that  other  indi- 
viduals of  your  species  are  surrounded  by  the  diseases 
of  luxury  and  the  vices  of  subserviency  and  oppression." 
With  all  those  who  are  truly  wise,  there  will  be  an  entire 
community,  not  only  of  thoughts  and  feelings,  but  also  of 
external  possessions.  Insomuch,  therefore,  as  ye  live 
[wisely],  ye  may  enjoy  the  community  of  whatsoever 
benefits  arise  from  the  inventions  of  civilized  life.  They 
are  of  value  only  for  purposes  of  mental  power ;  they 
are  of  value  only  as  they  are  capable  of  being  shared 
and  applied  to  the  common  advantage  of  philosophy : 
and,  if  there  be  no  love  among  men,  whatever  institutions 
they  may  frame  must  be  subservient  to  the  same  purpose 
—  to  the  continuance  of  inequality.  If  there  be  no  love 
among  men,  it  is  best  that  he  who  sees  through  the  hollow- 
ness  of  their  professions  should  fly  from  their  society,  and 
suffice  to  his  own  soul.  In  wisdom,  he  will  thus  lose 
nothing  ;  in  power,  he  will  gain  everything.  In  propor- 
tion to  the  love  existing  among  men,  so  will  be  the  com- 
munity of  property  and  power.  Among  true  and  real 
friends,  all  is  Common  ;  and,  were  ignorance  and  envy 
and  superstition  banished  from  the  world,  all  mankind 
would  be  friends.  The  only  perfect  and  genuine  re- 
public is  that  which  comprehends  every  living  being. 
Those  distinctions  which  have  been  artificially  set  up, 
of  nations,  societies,  families,  and  religions,  are  only  gen- 
13* 


298  ESSAY    ON    CHRISTIANITY. 

eral  names,  expressing  the  abhorrence  and  contempt  with 
which  men  blindly  consider  their  fellow-men.  I  love  my 
country  ;  I  love  the  city  in  which  I  was  born  ;  my  parents, 
my  wife,  and  the  children  of  my  care ;  and  to  this  city, 
this  woman,  and  this  nation,  it  is  incumbent  on  me  to  do 
all  the  benefit  in  my  power.  To  what  do  these  distinctions 
point,  but  to  an  evident  denial  of  the  Unity  which  hu- 
manity imposes  on  you  of  doing  every  possible  good  to 
every  individual,  under  whatever  denomination  he  may 
be  comprehended,  to  whom  you  have  the  power  of  doing 
it  ?  You  ought  to  love  all  mankind ;  nay,  every  indi- 
vidual of  mankind.  You  ought  not  to  love  the  individu- 
als of  youi*  domestic  circle  less,  but  to  love  those  who 
exist  beyond  it  more.  Once  make  the  feelings  of  confi- 
dence and  of  affection  universal,  and  the  distinctions  of 
property  and  power  will  vanish ;  nor  are  they  to  be 
abolished  without  substituting  something  equivalent  in 
mischief  to  them,  until  all  mankind  shall  acknowledge 
an  entire  community  of  rights. 

But,  as  the  shades  of  night  are  dispelled  by  the  faintest 
glimmerings  of  dawn,  so  shall  the  minutest  progress  of 
the  benevolent  feelings  disperse,  in  some  degree,  the 
gloom  of  tyranny,  and  [curb  the]  ministers  of  mutual 
suspicion  and  abhorrence.  Your  physical  wants  are  few, 
whilst  those  of  your  mind  and  heart  cannot  be  numbered 
or  described,  from  their  multitude  and  complication.  To 
secure  the  gratification  of  the  former,  you  have  made 
yourselves  the  bondslaves  of  each  other. 

They  have  cultivated  these  meaner  wants  to  so  great 
an  excess  as  to  judge  nothing  so  valuable  or  desirable 


ESSAY    ON    CHRISTIANITY.  299 

[as]  what  relates  to  their  gratification.  Hence  has  arisen 
a  system  of  passions  which  loses  sight  of  the  end  they 
were  originally  awakened  to  attain.  Fame,  power,  and 
gold,  are  loved  for  their  own  sakes  —  are  worshipped  with 
a  blind,  habitual  idolatry.  The  pageantry  of  empire, 
and  the  fame  of  irresistible  might,  are  contemplated  by 
the  possessor  with  unmeaning  complacency,  without  a 
retrospect  to  the  prosperities  which  first  made  him  con- 
sider them  of  value.  It  is  from  the  cultivation  of  the 
most  contemptible  properties  of  human  nature  that  dis- 
cord and  torpor  and  indifference,  by  which  the  moral 
universe  is  disordered,  essentially  depend.  So  long  as 
these  are  the  ties  by  which  human  society  is  connected, 
let  it  not  be  admitted  that  they  are  fragile. 

Before  man  can  be  free,  and  equal,  and  truly  wise,  he 
must  cast  aside  the  chains  of  habit  and  superstition ;  he 
must  strip  sensuality  of  its  pomp,  and  selfishness  of  its 
excuses,  and  contemplate  actions  and  objects  as  they 
really  are.  He  will  discover  the  wisdom  of  universal 
love;  he  will  feel  the  meanness  and  the  injustice  of 
sacrificing  the  reason  and  the  liberty  of  his  fellow-men 
to  the  indulgence  of  his  physical  appetites,  and  becoming 
a  party  to  their  degradation  by  the  consummation  of  his 
own.     He  will  consider,  evyevaiag  6ekcu. 

Such,  with  those  differences  only  incidental  to  the  age 
and  state  of  society  in  which  they  were  promulgated, 
appear  to  have  been  the  doctrines  of  Jesus  Christ.  It 
is  not  too  much  to  assert  that  they  have  been  the  doc- 
trines of  every  just  and  compassionate  mind  that  ever 
speculated  on  the  social  nature  of  man.     The  dogma  of 


300  ESSAY    ON    CHRISTIANITY. 

the  equality  of  mankind  has  been  advocated  with  various 
success,  in  different  ages  of  the  world.  It  was  imper- 
fectly understood,  but  a  kind  of  instinct  in  its  favor 
influenced  considerably  the  practice  of  ancient  Greece 
and  Rome.  Attempts  to  establish  usages,  founded  on 
this  dogma,  have  been  made  in  modern  Europe,  in  sev- 
eral instances,  since  the  revival  of  literature  and  the 
arts.  Rousseau  has  vindicated  this  opinion  with  all  the 
eloquence  of  sincere  and  earnest  faith ;  and  is,  perhaps, 
the  philospher  among  the  moderns  who,  in  the  structure 
of  his  feelings  and  understanding,  resembles  most  nearly 
the  mysterious  sage  of  Judea.  It  is  impossible  to  read 
those  passionate  words  in  which  Jesus  Christ  upbraids 
the  pusillanimity  and  sensuality  of  mankind,  without 
being  strongly  reminded  of  the  more  connected  and 
systematic  enthusiasm  of  Rousseau.  "  No  man,"  says 
Jesus  Christ,  "  can  .serve  two  masters.  Take,  therefore, 
no  thought  for  to-morrow,  for  the  morrow  shall  take 
thought  for  the  things  of  itself.  Sufficient  unto  the  day 
is  the  evil  thereof."  If  we  would  profit  by  the  wisdom 
of  a  sublime  and  poetical  mind,  we  must  beware  of  the 
vulgar  error  of  interpreting  literally  every  expression  it 
employs.  Nothing  can  well  be  more  remote  from  truth 
than  the  literal  and  strict  construction  of  such  expres- 
sions as  Jesus  Christ  delivers,  or  than  [to  imagine  that] 
it  were  best  for  man  that  he  should  abandon  all  his 
acquirements  in  physical  and  intellectual  science,  and 
depend  on  the  spontaneous  productions  of  nature  for 
his  subsistence.  Nothing  is  more  obviously  false  than 
that  the  remedy  for  the  inequality  among  men  consists 


ESSAY    ON    CHRISTIANITY.  301 

in  their  return  to  the  condition  of  savages  and  beasts. 
Philosophy  will  never  be  understood  if  we  approach  the 
study  of  its  mysteries  with  so  narrow  and  illiberal  con- 
ceptions of  its  universality.  Rousseau  certainly  did  not 
mean  to  persuade  the  immense  population  of  his  country 
to  abandon  all  the  arts  of  life,  destroy  their  habitations 
and  their  temples,  and  become  the  inhabitants  of  the 
woods.  He  addressed  the  most  enlightened  of  his  com- 
patriots, and  endeavored  to  persuade  them  to  set  the 
example  of  a  pure  and  simple  life,  by  placing  in  the 
strongest  point  of  view  his  conceptions  of  the  calamitous 
and  diseased  aspect  which,  overgrown  as  it  is  with  the 
vices  of  sensuality  and  selfishness,  is  exhibited  by  civil- 
ized society.  Nor  can  it  be  believed  that  Jesus  Christ 
endeavored  to  prevail  on  the  inhabitants  of  Jerusalem 
neither  to  till  their  fields,  nor  to  frame  a  shelter  against 
the  sky,  nor  to  provide  food  for  the  morrow.  He  simply 
exposes,  with  the  passionate  rhetoric  of  enthusiastic  love 
towards  all  human  beings,  the  miseries  and  mischiefs  of 
that  system  which  makes  all  things  subservient  to  the 
subsistence  of  the  material  frame  of  man.  He  warns 
them  that  no  man  can  serve  two  masters  —  God  and 
Mammon;  that  it  is  impossible  at  once  to  be  high- 
minded  and  just  and  wise,  and  to  comply  with  the 
accustomed  forms  of  human  society,  seek  power,  wealth, 
or  empire,  either  from  the  idolatry  of  habit,  or  as  the 
direct  instruments  of  sensual  gratification.  He  instructs 
them  that  clothing  and  food  and  shelter  are  not,  as  they 
suppose,  the  true  end  of  human  life,  but  only  certain 
means,  to  be  valued  in  proportion  to  their  subserviency 


302  ESSAY    ON    CHRISTIANITY. 

to  that  end.  These  means  it  is  the  right  of  every  human 
being  to  possess,  and  that  in  the  same  degree.  In  this 
respect  the  fowls  of  the  air  and  the  lilies  of  the  field 
are  examples  for  the  imitation  of  mankind.  They  are 
clothed  and  fed  by  the  Universal  God.  Permit,  there- 
fore, the  Spirit  of  this  benignant  Principle  to  visit  your 
intellectual  frame,  or,  in  other  words,  become  just  and 
pure.  When  you  understand  the  degree  of  attention 
which  the  requisitions  of  your  physical  nature  demand, 
you  will  perceive  how  little  labor  suffices  for  their  satis- 
faction. Your  Heavenly  Father  knoweth  you  have  need 
of  these  things.  The  universal  Harmony,  or  Reason, 
which  makes  your  passive  frame  of  thought  its  dwelling, 
in  proportion  to  the  purity  and  majesty  of  its  nature  will 
instruct  you,  if  ye  are  willing  to  attain  that  exalted  con- 
dition, in  what  manner  to  possess  all  the  objects  neces- 
sary for  your  material  subsistence.  All  men  are  [im- 
pelled] to  become  thus  pure  and  happy.  All  men  are 
called  to  participate  in  the  community  of  Nature's  gifts. 
The  man  who  has  fewest  bodily  wants  approaches  near- 
est to  the  Divine  Nature.  Satisfy  these  wants  at  the 
cheapest  rate,  and  expend  the  remaining  energies  of  your 
nature  in  the  attainment  of  virtue  and  knowledge.  The 
mighty  frame  of  the  wonderful  and  lovely  world  is  the 
food  of  your  contemplation,  and  living  beings  who  re- 
semble your  own  nature,  and  are  bound  to  you  by  simi- 
larity of  sensations,  are  destined  to  be  the  nutriment  of 
your  affection ;  united,  they  are  the  consummation  of  the 
widest  hopes  your  mind  can  contain.  Ye  can  expend 
thus  no  labor  on  mechanism  consecrated  to  luxury  and 


ESSAY    ON    CHRISTIANITY.  303 

pride.  How  abundant  will  not  be  your  progress  in  all 
that  truly  ennobles  and  extends  human  nature !  By  ren- 
dering yourselves  thus  worthy,  ye  will  be  as  free  in  your 
imaginations  as  the  swift  and  many-colored  fowls  of  the 
air,  and  as  beautiful  in  pure  simplicity  as  the  lilies  of  the 
field.  In*  proportion  as  mankind  becomes  wise  —  yes,  in 
exact  proportion  to  that  wisdom  —  should  be  the  extinc- 
tion of  the  unequal  system  under  which  they  now  sub- 
sist. Government  is,  in  fact,  the  mere  badge  of  their 
depravity.  They  are  so  little  aware  of  the  inestimable 
benefits  of  mutual  love  as  to  indulge,  without  thought, 
and  almost  without  motive,  in  the  worst  excesses  of  self- 
ishness and  malice.  Hence,  without  graduating  human 
society  into  a  scale  of  empire  and  subjection,  its  very 
existence  has  become  impossible.  It  is  necessary  that 
universal  benevolence  should  supersede  the  regulations 
of  precedent  and  prescription,  before  these  regulations 
can  safely  be  abolished.  Meanwhile,  their  very  subsist- 
ence depends  on  the  system  of  injustice  and  violence 
which  they  have  been  devised  to  palliate.  They  suppose 
men  endowed  with  the  power  of  deliberating  and  deter- 
mining for  their  equals ;  whilst  these  men,  as  frail  and  as 
ignorant  as  the  multitude  whom  they  rule,  possess,  as  a 
practical  consequence  of  this  power,  the  right  which  they 
of  necessity  exercise  to  prevent,  (together  with  their 
own),  the  physical  and  moral  and  intellectual  nature  of 
all  mankind. 

It  is  the  object  of  wisdom  to  equalize  the  distinctions 
on  which  this  power  depends,  by  exhibiting  in  their 
proper  worthlessness  the  objects,  a  contention  concerning 


304  ESSAY    ON    CHRISTIANITY. 

which  renders  its  existence  a  necessary  evil.  The  evil, 
in  fact,  is  virtually  abolished  wherever  justice  is  prac- 
tised; and  it  is  abolished  in  precise  proportion  to  the 
prevalence  of  true  virtue. 

The  whole  frame  of  human  things  is  infected  by  an 
insidious  poison.  Hence  it  is  that  man  is  blind  in  his 
understanding,  corrupt  in  his  moral  sense,  and  diseased 
in  his  physical  functions.  The  wisest  and  most  sublime 
of  the  ancient  poets  saw  this  truth,  and  embodied  their 
conception  of  its  value  in  retrospect  to  the  earliest  ages 
of  mankind.  They  represented  equality  as  the  reign 
of  Saturn,  and  taught  that  mankind  had  gradually 
degenerated  from  the  virtue  which  enabled  them  to 
enjoy  or  maintain  this  happy  state.  Their  doctrine  was 
philosophically  false.  Later  and  more  correct  observa- 
tions have  instructed  us  that  uncivilized  man  is  the  most 
pernicious  and  miserable  of  beings,  and  that  the  violence 
and  injustice,  which  are  the  genuine  indications  of  real 
inequality,  obtain  in  the  society  of  these  beings  without 
palliation.  Their  imaginations  of  a  happier  state  of 
human  society  were  referred,  in  truth,  to  the  Saturnian 
period ;  they  ministered,  indeed,  to  thoughts  of  despond- 
ency and  sorrow.  But  they  were  the  children  of  airy 
hope  —  the  prophets  and  parents  of  man's  futurity.  Man 
was  once  as  a  wild  beast ;  he  has  become  a  moralist,  a 
metaphysican,  a  poet,  and  an  astronomer.  Lucretius  or 
Virgil  might  have  referred  the  comparison  to  themselves ; 
and,  as  a  proof  of  the  progress  of  the  nature  of  man, 
challenged  a  comparison  with  the  cannibals  of  Scythia.* 

*  Jesus  Christ  foresaw  wnat  the  poets  retrospectively  imagined. 


ESSAY    ON    CHRISTIANITY.  305 

The  experience  of  the  ages  which  have  intervened  be- 
tween the  present  period  and  that  in  which  Jesus  Christ 
taught,  tends  to  prove  his  doctrine,  and  to  illustrate  theirs. 
There  is  more  equality  because  there  is  more  justice,  and 
there  is  more  justice  because  there  is  more  universal 
knowledge. 

To  the  accomplishment  of  such  mighty  hopes  were  the 
views  of  Jesus  Christ  extended ;  such  did  he  believe  to 
be  the  tendency  of  his  doctrines  —  the  abolition  of  arti- 
ficial distinctions  among  mankind,  so  far  as  the  love 
which  it  becomes  all  human  beings  to-  bear  towards  each 
other,  and  the  knowledge  of  truth  from  which  that  love 
will  never  fail  to  be  produced,  avail  to  their  destruction. 
A  young  man  came  to  Jesus  Christ,  struck  by  the  mirac- 
ulous dignity  and  simplicity  of  his  character,  and  at- 
tracted by  the  words  of  power  which  he  uttered.  He 
demanded  to  be  considered  as  one  of  the  followers  of 
his  creed.  "  Sell  all  that  thou  hast,"  replied  the  philos- 
opher ;  "  give  it  to  the  poor,  and  follow  me."  But  the 
young  man  had  large  possessions,  and  he  went  away 
sorrowing. 

The  system  of  equality  was  attempted,  after  Jesus 
Christ's  death,  to  be  carried  into  effect  by  his  followers. 
"  They  that  believed  had  all  things  in  common ;  they 
sold  their  possessions  and  goods,  and  parted  them  to 
all  men,  as  every  man  had  need;  and  they  continued 
daily  with  one  accord  in  the  temple,  and,  breaking  bread 
from  house  to  house,  did  eat  their  meat  with  gladness 
and  singleness  of  heart."     (Acts,  ch.  2.) 

The  practical  application  of  the  doctrines  of  strict 


306  ESSAY    ON    CHRISTIANITY. 

justice  to  a  state  of  society  established  in  its  contempt, 
was  such  as  might  have  been  expected.  After  the  tran- 
sitory glow  of  enthusiasm  had  faded  from  the  minds  of 
men,  precedent  and  habit  resumed  their  empire;  they 
broke  like  an  universal  deluge  on  one  shrinking  and 
solitary  island.  Men  to  whom  birth  had  allotted  ample 
possession,  looked  with  complacency  on  sumptuous  apart- 
ments and  luxurious  food,  and  those  ceremonials  of  delu- 
sive majesty  which  surround  the  throne  of  power  and  the 
court  of  wealth.  Men  from  whom  these  things  were 
withheld  by  their  condition,  began,  again  to  gaze  with 
stupid  envy  on  pernicious  splendor ;  and,  by  desiring 
the  false  greatness  of  another's  state,  to  sacrifice  the  in- 
trinsic dignity  of  their  own.  The  demagogues  of  the 
infant  republic  of  the  Christian  sect,  attaining,  through 
eloquence  or  artifice,  to  influence  amongst  its  members, 
first  violated  (under  the  pretence  of  watching  over  their 
integrity)  the  institutions  established  for  the  common  and 
equal  benefit  of  all.  These  demagogues  artfully  silenced 
the  voice  of  the  moral  sense  among  them  by  engaging 
them  to  attend,  not  so  much  to  the  cultivation  of  a  virtu- 
ous and  happy  life  in  this  mortal  scene,  as  to  the  attain- 
ment of  a  fortunate  condition  after  death ;  not  so  much  to 
the  consideration  of  those  means,  by  which  the  state  of 
man  is  adorned  and  improved,  as  an  inquiry  into  the  se- 
crets of  the  connection  between  God  and  the  world  — 
things  which,  they  well  knew,  were  not  to  be  explained, 
or  even  to  be.  conceived.  The  system  of  equality  which 
they  established,  necessarily  fell  to  the  ground,  because 
it  is  a  system  that  must  result  from,  rather  than  precede, 


ESSAY    ON    CHRISTIANITY.  307 

the  moral  improvement  of  human  kind.  It  was  a 
circumstance  of  no  moment  that  the  first  adherents  of 
the  system  of  Jesus  Christ  cast  their  property  into 
a  common  stock.  The  same  degree  of  real  community 
of  property  could  have  subsisted  without  this  formality, 
which  served  only  to  extend  a  temptation  of  dishonesty 
to  the  treasurers  of  so  considerable  a  patrimony.  Every 
man,  in  proportion  to  his  virtue,  considers  himself, 
with  respect  to  the  great  community  of  mankind,  as 
the  steward  and  guardian  of  their  interests  in  the  prop- 
erty which  he  chances  to  possess.  Every  man,  in 
proportion  to  his  wisdom,  sees  the  manner  in  which  it 
is  his  duty  to  employ  the  resources  which  the  consent  of 
mankind  has  intrusted  to  his  discretion.  Such  is  the 
[annihilation]  of  the  unjust  inequality  of  powers  and 
conditions  existing  in  the  world,  and  so  gradually  and 
inevitably  is  the  progress  of  equality  accommodated 
to  the  progress  of  wisdom  and  of  virtue  among  man- 
kind. 

Meanwhile,  some  benefit  has  not  failed  to  flow,  from 
the  imperfect  attempts  which  have  been  made,  to  erect 
a  system  of  equal  rights  to  property  and  power,  upon 
the  basis  of  arbitrary  institutions.  They  have  undoubt- 
edly, in  every  case,  from  the  instability  of  their  forma- 
tion, failed.  Still,  they  constitute  a  record  of  those 
epochs  at  which  a  true  sense  of  justice  suggested  itself 
to  the  understandings  of  men,  so  that  they  consented 
to  forego  all  the  cherished  delights  of  luxury,  all  the 
habitual  gratifications  arising  out  of  the  possession  or 
the   expectations   of  power,   all   the   superstitions   with 


308  ESSAY    ON    CHRISTIANITY. 

which  the  accumulated  authority  of  ages  had  made  them 
dear  and  venerable.  They  are  so  many  trophies  erected 
in  the  enemy's  land,  to  mark  the  limits  of  the  victorious 
progress  of  truth  and  justice. 

Jesus  Christ  did  not  fail  to  advert  to  the 


[THE  REST  IS   WANTING.] 


THE   END. 


